


One for all and all for one

by stereden



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captivity, Gen, PTSD, Protective!Little assassins, Protective!WinterSoldier, Soldat has a soft spot for little girls that can kill with their pinky finger, Soldat is not going to let the Red Room turn them into perfect little weapons, Trauma, memory troubles, one for all and all for one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-12 23:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereden/pseuds/stereden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, the Winter Soldier entered the Red Room and got a group of mini-widows out of the cold.<br/>Now it's their turn to help him out of the cold.</p><p>Or:</p><p>Steve never expected that his frantic search for Bucky would be blocked at every turn by a bunch of young women who are NOT letting him anywhere near their большой брат without a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the Night that Covers Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post: http://imaginebucky.tumblr.com/post/149928976308/imagine-some-of-the-former-widow-candidates
> 
> Anonymous: Imagine some of the former Widow candidates helping Bucky with getting more of the newer girls out. Once he saved Steve, one of the Widow candidates found him and the entire network gave him places to hide when he needed it, only letting Steve and Natasha (who never guessed at the other Widow candidates) in once Bucky recovered enough to let the former candiadates that Steve and Natasha were good people. (Everyone's leery of the rest of the Avengers, though.)
> 
> Chapter title is from William Ernest Henley's poem "Out of the night that covers me" (Invictus)

Masha is silent as she ghosts from bed to bed, gently shaking their inhabitants awake and signaling them to be quiet as she gets their handcuffs off in seconds.

Silence is of the essence here. If anyone hears them, they won’t live to see morning.

It only takes her a few minutes, and the entire dorm is awake and dressed, ready to follow her. The girls have no idea what is about to happen, but they have been trained to respect their elders. And sixteen-years old Masha is the oldest girl in this facility.

Lesya had been older. Eighteen. But they took her two days ago, and no one has seen or heard her since. Masha does not hold on to hope. She knows about the procedure, about the serum that burns in your veins. She knows that many have died from it. Lysabetha. Darya. Talia.

She knows she’s next. She’s already been injected with the first part, the one that makes her heal faster and age slower. They all have, as soon as they got here. The second part, the one that is supposed to make them stronger, strong like the Soldat, is the part that has killed most of them.

She knows it will kill her, if she allows herself to be injected. And that no one will be there to protect the younger ones if she dies.

And that is not something she will allow. Not something _he_ will allow either.

A quiet knock against the door causes her to tense, until she recognize the pattern. A quick headjerk at the trainees, and they follow her silently as she opens the door. They freeze once they see who is waiting for them, but snap out of it with only a look from her.

Relief bursts into her heart as she notices the unconscious figure on Soldat’s back. Lesya. She looks bad, really bad, beads of sweat running down her red-tinged face, but she’s breathing and that’s all that matters.

A small hand tugs on her jacket. Katya is looking up at her, brow creased with worry. She’s only five. Masha ruffles her hair and gives her what she hopes is a reassuring smile, before turning to Soldat. He nods, and she urges the trainees to follow him as she takes the rear, ready to deal with anything that would threathen her girls.

 

* * *

 

They manage to get out without getting caught. Masha still can’t believe it, even as she urges her charges through the snow-covered woods. They’re leaving tracks in the snow, but a glance at Soldat lets her know that he will take care of it.

That’s something else she still has trouble believing. Soldat is supposed to be a Weapon, the Winter Soldier, HYDRA and the Red Room’s puppet, and yet here he is. Helping them escape even though they both know he won’t be able to.

It had been Lesya’s idea, to approach him for help. He has a soft spot for the little ones, she said, he never hurts them even in training, only pretends to in front of the handlers. He looked ready to kill someone, she said, when he saw a handler slap Katya for crying over her broken arm. We need his help, Masha, or we’re never getting out of here. Or we’ll never get the little ones out of here.

They are out, now, all thanks to Soldat. He leads them towards a small clearing, and Masha gaps when she sees the stealth flyer. It small, barely big enough to fit the twenty of them, but when he let her know he had transport, she had expected a jeep or a truck.

She tenses when a darkhaired figures climbs out of the plane, immediately placing herself between the trainees and the newcomer. Only Soldat’s calm composure prevents her from attacking outright.

“Just on time,  **защитник** ( _zashchitnik: protector_ )” The figure smiles. A woman, Masha notes, black hair and pale skin, blue jacket and white pants, and she moves just like them. 

“Who are you?” She asks warily. The woman is Red Room trained, Masha knows it, and that makes her a risk.

“ **призрак** ” The woman answers. “But you can call me Sasha.”

The teenager freezes. призрак. _Prizrak. Specter_. Every girl in the Red Room has heard the story, the story of the girl who survived the second injection, was sent on a mission and killed her handlers before disappearing into thin air.

She chances a glance at Soldat. He replies with an imperceptible nod.

“What happens now?” Masha asks, not letting her guard down as she stands in front of the little ones.

Prizark smiles, a wide grin full of promises.

“Now we disappear. Now you get to live the life these bastards stole from you.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want. Everywhere and nowhere. They will never find you again, that I swear on my life.”

Masha nods. Katya tugs on her jacket again.

“What’s going on?” the little girl asks, a point of fear in her voice.

“We’re leaving the Red Room”Masha answers, eyes not leaving Prizark. “We’re leaving and never coming back. They will never hurt you again, little one.”

“And Soldat? Is he coming with us?” another girl, Snezhana, slightly older with her eight years of age, inquires, looking at the imposing man with hope.

But the man shakes his head as he hands Lesya over to the former Black Widow.

“He can’t” Masha whispers. “It... they did something to him. He can’t come with us.”

The girls let out dismayed whimpers. Soldat may scare them, but he helped them escape, protected them, and all of them would have felt safer if he had gone with them.

“We need to go” Prizark says suddenly after glancing at her watch. “They’ll have noticed you’re missing by now. Soldat is supposed to be on assignment, so they won’t know he helped, but we need to leave. Now.”

They urge the little ones in the plane, where Masha puts fourteen-years old Varya in charge of buckling them up and readying them for departure.

She steps out of the plane just in time to see Soldat turn around to leave.

“Wait.”

He stops, turns around to face her as she walks up to him.

“Thank you” She says. “For everything. Without you...” She bites her lip.

He nods, hesitate, then motion for her to come closer.

She does so without hesitation, without fear.

She tenses when he puts his arms around her and hugs her tightly, but relaxes almost immediately as her arms wrap themselves around him.

“Be safe” He rasps out, voice rough with disuse. “Be safe, and live well.”

She nods against his chest, trying to bite back tears.

“You too, большой брат (bol’shoy brat: big brother)” she whispers. “And, when you get out, because you will get out as well, when you want to come in from the cold, _find me_. Find us. We’ll help. We’ll always help you, брат. So just... just hold on to that. по́мни (zapomnit'). Remember that.”

She gives him one last squeeze, trying both to get the most of the first hug she’s had since she was taken from her papa when she was five and to convey all of her feelings to him. Then she lets go, turns around and starts to walk back towards the plane.

“I will” He promises, voice rough and low. “I will.”

A cacophony coming from the plane gets both of their attention. The trainees are crowding the doorway.

“Прощай большой брат ! (Proshchay bol’shoy brat: Farewell big brother)” They call out quietly, well aware that their former jailers could get there at any moment, but loath to leave without saying goodbye to the one who had saved them.

Varya and Masha usher them back to their seats, and the door is just starting to close when they hear it.

“ Прощай маленькие (Proshchay malen'kiye: Farewell little ones)”.


	2. In the fell clutch of circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been four years. SHIELD has fallen, HYDRA is back and yet all Masha can do is laugh because Soldat has finally broken free of his chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am weak against the plotbunnies.  
> Title from "Out of the Night that covers me" by William Ernest Henley

 

 

> In the fell clutch of circumstance  
>  I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
>  Under the bludgeonings of chance  
>  My head is bloody, but unbowed.  
>  \- William Ernest Henley

* * *

 

Masha is asleep when she gets the message.

_**защитник spotted in DC against CA.**  _

It’s from Sasha, the former Widow who now works as a journalist for CNN.

It’s three in the morning, but Masha is suddenly wide awake.

 _ **Status**_? she sends back, even though she can guess that if he’s fighting Captain America, he’s still under Hydra’s control. Discovering that Soldat had once been James Buchanan Barnes had been quite a shock, but they had all been looking forwards to being able to help him regain his memories once he got out. Odds where, Rogers beat them to it now.

There’s a pause. Masha gets out of the bed and makes for the kitchen. Something tells her she’ll need coffee soon.

 ** _Questionning_**. Comes the answer, and it’s more than Masha had hoped for at this point. Wait and see it is, then, she supposes. It’s a good thing she chose to settle down in DC.

She hears a key turning in the lock of the appartement’s door, and Lesya (now Leslie ) pushes it open. Her eyes are wide as she catches sight of Masha and her phone is in her hand even as she closes the door and locks it behind her.

“Nick Fury has been shot by the Winter Soldier” she tells her as she collapses on a chair, dropping her phone on the table. It is showing a news broadcast of the shooting at what appears to have been Captain America’s private residence.

Masha lets out a string of swearwords that would have a sailor taking notes, and pushes her coffee aside in favour of strong vodka.

  

 

* * *

 

SHIELD falls two days later. Masha would like to say that it’s a surprise, but it’s not. There’s a reason none of them approached the agency after their escape. 

She thinks of THE Black Widow, Natasha Romanova, the one who joined the Avengers. How must she feel now, after finding out that the ennemy she had tried to escape had never let her leave its web?

They thought about reaching out to her, after escaping. But in the end, they deemed it too risky. (Part of Masha is glad they never did - she remembers the Red Room, remembers the stories of the First Black Widow, the one who escaped so long ago, and she can’t help but resent her because _she never came back_. She never came back to make sure that the Red Room had stopped their practices, never came back to free them.)

Still, she thinks of her now as she walks down the streets of Hells Kitchen to get Katya from school. Her shift at the bakery just ended, and Lesya is already back at the hospital where she’s doing her nurse training ( _I **know** how to **hurt** people, милая (milaya - sweetie). But what I **want** is to **help** them_). It’s been four years now since they broke out of the Red Room, and she’s quite proud of what they achieved.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Most of the younger girls have found good families. Sasha - Prizark - made sure of that, and all of them kept in touch. Some of them, like Varya, choose not to try and find a new family. The eighteen years old just graduated from a british private school known for its... eccentric, if not downright dangerous curriculum and students. She flourished there, and Masha knows the young woman is thinking of following Prizark in the information business - the less legal side of it, and the teenager is already a damn good information broker despite being mostly UK-based. From what she heard, one of her classmates has been recruited by MI6 while another two are well on their way to becoming Europe’s youngest wet work experts. Masha is slightly jealous that she never got to go to that school. Varya is also going through partners pretty fast, never staying with the same one longer than a few weeks. Still. As long as Varya is happy, Masha doesn’t give a damn either way.

(She and Lesya may have made one of her ex-boyfriend disappear. May. But there is no proof, and the guy had been a bastard anyway. Stalking one of their own was the last mistake he made. No one looked that deep into it, and if they received a box of high-quality chocolate from Varya’s Headmistress, well, no one would know)

Katya had outright refused to be placed with a new family, instead insisting on staying with Masha. She and Lesya had been against it, at first, worried about managing on their own let alone with a five years old tagging along, but Sasha had come through once again. As it turned out, they weren’t the first widows-to-be that managed to get out, and the Specter had called in a few favours to have them become the wards of a retired dance teacher ( _I am one of 28 young ballerinas with the Bolshoi. Training is hard, but the glory of the soviet culture, and the warmth of my parents… my… parents… makes up for…_.) until they were old enough and found themselves a stable enough situation. 

Officially, Katie Jones lives with her sister Martha and their flat-mate Leslie Owens. She goes to visit her grandmother, Irina Petrova, every Saturday while her sister shares her time between her job at the bakery and classes at the local community college.

Officiously, Katya Arianova is one of twenty young girls who managed to escape the Red Room. She lives with Masha Olegnova and her girlfriend Lesya  Nikolayevna who escaped from the same place, and is doing her very best to become the opposite of what the Red Room would have made of her. 

 

 

* * *

 

SHIELD falls, and Sasha sends her a text containing only two words.

**_Broken chains_**.

SHIELD has fallen, HYDRA is back in business and yet all Masha can do when she reads the text is let out a relieved laugh.

He did it. 

Soldat has broken his chains. He’s free. For the first time in over half a century, their  большой брат is free.

She grabs her phone so hard it nearly shatters, but manages to send out a message to everyone. To every little girl and young woman who was taken out of the cold thanks to the Winter Soldier. And there are many.

 **_большой брат is on his way home. Let’s make sure he knows we missed him._ **  

 

 

* * *

 

 All over the world, young girls and women between the ages of nine and forty-eight let out a sigh of relief. Some of them smile, other laugh or yell their joy at the sky. All of them start to think about how they can help him.

He’s their защитник , their saviour, their большой брат, their big brother. He helped them so much, and now they can finally repay the favour.

 

 

* * *

 

She’s still smiling by the time she get to Katya’s school and the young girl runs up to her to jump in her arms. She laughs as she whirls the child around, before settling her on the ground.

She listen with half an ear as the girl prattles on about her day, holding her by the hand as they walk back to their flat. Her mind is still stuck on Soldat, and she lets her guard down for a handfull of seconds. 

But this is Hell’s Kitchen, and this is enough for someone to grab her from behind and drag her in a back alley. She’s still holding Katya’s hand, and the child follows her movement even as Masha sees her going for the ceramic knife concealed in her sparkly blue belt.

The twenty-years old curses herself for letting her guard down, and is quick to let go of her charge. Throwing her head back, she feels the impact against her attacker’s face, and uses his moment of surprise to grab the arm around her neck with both hands. A quick jerk downwards, holding onto the limb as she ducks under it, twisting it painfully, followed by a powerful knee to the junk has the bastard letting go of her pretty quick. He snarls angrily at her, nose bleeding, but he was wearing a cup of some sorts and her hit had less result than anticipated.

Cursing herself again Masha places herself between their attacker and Katya. She wants to tell the child to run, but he is standing between them and the only exit. The curses worsen when the man takes out a gun.

 _And today was going so well_! She bemoans mentally, preparing herself for a fight.

There’s a quiet noise from Katya, but she can’t chance a look behind her. Besides, she knows her charge, and that is more of a surprised noise than a scared one.

“What the fuck do you want?” she asks the man who attacked her.

“I was just going to take your valuables” he spits back “but now you made it personal, bitch!”

“Don’t call her that!” Katya yells, and Masha wants to throw her hands up in the air and ask whoever is up there what she did to deserve this. The kid sounds too confident, given the situation they’re in. Sure, they can get rid of the wanna be mugger pretty easily, but half the fight is letting the other party believe you’re weak, and they don’t want to attract too much attention. Honestly, Masha has half in mind to stall until Daredevil gets his ass over there. Hells Kitchen’s vigilante has a particularly good sense of timing, and she’s pretty sure that if she manages to stall the guy for about five minutes, the infamous hero would show up and get rid of the problem for her.

“Or what, brat?” Their assaillant sneers.

Masha can just feel Katya’s smug smirk, and she really, really wants to strangle her little sister. The kid knows something she doesn’t, and odds are fifty-fifty on whether Masha will still want to strangle her once she finds out what it is.

“Or our big brother will kick. Your. Ass.” 


	3. Beyond this place of wrath and tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let them try” Masha spits. “None of them are getting within a hundred miles of him.”
> 
> They will not let anyone hurt their brother again.
> 
> Not HYDRA. Not the Red Room.
> 
> Not even Captain Fucking America and the Black Widow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And part 3. Because I am and remain weak to the plot bunnies, and this story is taking a life of its own.

**Beyond this place of wrath and tears**  
**Looms but the Horror of the shade,**  
**And yet the menace of the years**  
**Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.**

**William Ernest Henley - Invictus**

 

* * *

“ _Or what, brat?” Their assaillant sneers._

_Masha can just feel Katya’s smug smirk, and she really, really wants to strangle her little sister. The kid knows something she doesn’t, and odds are fifty-fifty on whether Masha will still want to strangle her once she finds out what it is._

_“Or our big brother will kick. Your. Ass.”_

 

* * *

 

 Wait.

What?!

“What big brot...”

He is interrupted by a dark figure jumping down from one of the fire-escapes ladder. It lands between Masha and her opponent, and all she can see is a strong back and brown hair, but she knows this man, would know him anywhere.

It takes barely a moment, and the man who attacked her is on the ground, unconscious.

But their rescuer is still keeping his back to them.

Hesitantly, Masha speaks up.

“ большой брат?” She asks quietly, and watches as a shudder goes through him.

That’s enough for her, and she walks up to him, not quite running but nearly so. She knows better than to jump on him when she’s not sure of the state of his psyche, despite how much she wants to, so she walks around him until she’s standing in front of him.

He looks bad. Dark circles under his eyes, long and raggy hair, cuts all over his face. The worst part are his eyes, though. They’re lost, confused, even as he tries to focus on her face.

“ большой брат” She repeats gently, slowly bringing her hand up to touch his arm - the left one, the metal one - making sure to telegraph every move.  He doesn’t shake her hand off, or attack her, and she considers it a win.

“Маша (Masha)?” He croaks out hesitantly.

_That’s it. Fuck caution._

Masha throws her arms around him and hugs him for all he’s worth (and that a damn lot, in her eyes). He startles, and there’s half a moment where he seems to be hesitating between fight and flight, but then his arms winds themselves around her back and his hands clutch her jacket as if it were a lifeline.

Masha’s left hand is touching a distinctively humid patch of shirt, and she wants nothing more than to see to Soldat’s injuries then and there, but she can’t. Not yet.

Reluctantly, she releases him from the hug, but slips one of her hands in his flesh one. Human touch, non-threatening, leaving his primary mean of offense and defense free in case he needs it. 

 Katya is already by their side, looking up at Soldat with pure adoration on her face. 

“малютка (malyutka: little one)?” He whispers, voice hoarse as he kneels down to her level, and that’s all she need to throw her arms around his neck in a desperate hug.

 

* * *

 

 

Leaving him momentarily in the little girl’s care, though still keeping her hand in his, Masha takes the opportunity to grab her phone and sends off a handful of texts. (Thank all that is useful in this world for Varya and Sasha’s encryption program that protects every single one of their communications by replacing the contents with innocent messages.)

**_милая, when does your shift ends? Brother just got back from deployment.  
_ **

**_призрак, Варя, contact has been made. Code purple activated.  
_ **

There. With some luck, Lesya would be home soon and could take a better look at Soldat’s injuries than Masha would be able to. Code purple was Sasha and Varya’s clue to keep an eye on all video surveillance from the area and erase them from it. They would also alert the rest of their network.

By the time she gets Soldat to the appartement, it will be the safest place in the entire city, and no one will ever know he was within two hundred miles of it.

She puts her phone back in her pocket and kneels down next to her charges. Soldat has that shell shocked look on him that breaks her heart, holding onto her and Katya as if they are the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Come on” she says gently, tugging slightly at his hand to get him to stand up and signaling Katya to let him go. “You’re coming home with us. No discussion” she adds before he can even think about it. “You taught us well. No one is going to find either of us - and believe me, the assholes have tried. You’re hurt, and I’ll be damned if I let you out of my sight in this state.”

She gives him a quick once over, determines that he looks well enough not to attact too much attention in the streets, and grabs Katya’s purple schoolbag from where the child had let it fall on the ground.

“Here. Put this on your shoulder - people will just see a young couple picking their sibling up from school.”

It scares her, how easily he complies to her demand. She squeezes his hand.

“It’s gonna be okay,  большой брат” she whispers quietly. “I promise you.”

He’s standing, though he’s shaky on his feet, and Katya is quick to latch onto his shirt and plaster herself against his side. His left arm is still free to move, so Masha doesn’t call her out on it. She still hasn’t let go of him either, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

They get to the appartement in one piece, and without any episode. Masha is really, really grateful about that.

Especially when Soldat collapses on the floor as soon as she locks the door behind them.

Swearing, she drops next to him and gently turns him around.

“Katya, the emergency bag from the bathroom” she orders even as she quickly and efficiently removes the leather jacket Soldat is wearing. The kitchen scissors get rid of the dark shirt, and her swears gain in intensity when she sees the multitude of cuts and bruises marking his skin.

A glance at her phone tells her that Lesya won’t be back for at least another half hour, and at least five of the bigger cuts have what appears to be shrapnel in them. If they heal with them in...

The nine-year old girl runs back with the pharmacy bag they keep stocked, and Masha hands her a wad of coton pads and a bottle of desinfectant while grabbing a pair of tweezers for herself.

“Clean the smaller cuts and bandage them” she tells the child, and starts to pick the shrapnel pieces out of Soldat’s wounds.

She would have preferred to do this with him lying on the couch, or even better, on a bed, but she’s well aware of how much he weights. Without Lesya, she has no hope of moving him. The best she can do is take care of these wounds, and wait until her partner gets home to make sure he’s not more injured than he appears.

Lesya, with her serum-induced strength, would also be able to move Soldat to a more comfortable setting.

“Prizark says that we’re in the clear” Katya reports as she works on cleaning the cuts. “She dropped a bag with clothing for him, and ordered enough groceries to last the four of us for at least three weeks - the delivery should be here in about five hours. Varya is running interference - apparently, Captain America just got out of the hospital and is searching frantically for “Bucky”. She’s sending him to Arkansas for now, but will keep an eye on his whereabouts should большой брат want to see him.”

Masha nods in approval as she removes metal splinters the size of her thumb. Their brother is in no state, physically or mentally, to be confronted with Steve Rogers. Later, once he has recovered and started to deal with his memories, they might let the Star-Spangled American near their brother.

Might. They’re still considering him a threat to Soldat’s well-being at the moment. All the information they managed to gather on the Captain suggests that he will be wanting to see “Bucky Barnes”. But they know, because they have experienced it to, though to a much lesser extent, that there is no way that Soldat will ever be that man again, memories or no memories. Too much has happened in the past seventy years, and no one could have escaped unscathed.

Soldat will get worse before he gets better. They all know it, and hate it. But they accept it nonetheless, because they need to be there to help him as he was there for them when they needed him.

“Romanova is helping Rogers.” Katya adds with a grimace, and Masha stills for a moment. Takes a deep breathe. Releases it.

“Tell Varya to send them to Russia. Put them on the trail of the Red Room. If they’re going to insist on going on a wild goose chase, they might as well make themselves useful and get rid of the bastards this time.”

Prizark had been planning another raid on a Red Room facility in Siberia, but odds were that the current situation would prevent her from going in person. Another escapee would probably lead the team to get the trainees out, but having the Avengers deal with the fall out would give them all some breathing room.

She turns back to her patient, focusing all her attention on him, mentally cataloguing the physical damage. Bruises and cuts everywhere. Signs that the right shoulder had been dislocated and brutally set, probably by Soldat himself. Too thin frame - she can count his ribs despite the heavy muscles. Slight electrical burn marks on his temples have her clenching her fists as she remembers the wipes. 

And that is not even considering the mental damage that is sure to be there too.

Fuck HYDRA. Fuck the Red Room.

One day, she swears to herself, she’s going to burn them all to the ground.

And no one is going to stand in her way.

“She says that some HYDRA goons have already been spotted in DC, looking for him. The старый опекуны (staryy opekuny: old guardians) are dealing with them.” The child reports after another glance at her phone.

“Let them try” Masha spits. “None of them are getting within a hundred miles of him.”

They will not let anyone hurt their brother again.

Not HYDRA. Not the Red Room.

Not even Captain Fucking America and the Black Widow.


	4. It matters not how strait the gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know who I am” he admits quietly, barely more than a whisper.
> 
> Lesya surprises him by sitting next to him on the bed and taking his hand in her own.
> 
> “That’s okay” She says. “We can help you figure it out. Who you were matters, yes, but it’s who you are now that matters the most, and you get to decide that for yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And part four is up! This time from Soldat's point of view. Hope you like it!   
>  Next chapter should bring the first confrontation with Team Cap (If I don't get attacked by other plotbunnies in the meantime)  
> (Sleep is for the weak.)  
> You can also find me on Tumblr! stereden.tumblr.com, don't hesitate to drop by if you want to discuss the story!

**It matters not how strait the gate,**

**How charged with punishments the scroll,**

**I am the master of my fate,**

**I am the captain of my soul.**

**\- William Ernst Henley - Invictus -**

* * *

 

Night has long since fallen when Soldat regains consciousness. He’s lying on something soft - a bed, a couch? - with a blanket covering his body. His arms are free, though, and he can feel the bandages on his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, he notices, but his pants have been left alone, even if someone took off his shoes.

There’s a small rustle next to him, and he finally opens his eyes. There’s a young woman sitting on the ground, leaning against the bed he’s lying on, a book on her legs. Her skin is slightly tanned, and her short hair is dark with blue and purple streaks.

He must have made a noise, because she pauses in her reading and turns to look up at him. A smile blooms on her freckled face when she sees he’s awake.

“большой брат !” She whispers excitedly as she stands up to check on him, deliberately telegraphing her moves. He manages to sit upright, though his body feels as if he had gone ten rounds against the Hulk and lost.

“Lesya?” He asks quietly, slightly disoriented.

 

* * *

 

There had been a fight, he remembers. The Asset had been sent against Captain America - no, not Captain America, Steve. The man on the bridge. The one who said he knew him.

Everything had gone to hell after that. The Helicarrier went down. The Triskellion with it. HYDRA revealed themselves. SHIELD went down, rotten to the core. He broke through the programming. He fell. Water, not snow and ice this time. The man from the bridge fell too, and he had dragged him back to shore and... left him there.

He had gotten out of the water, and gone to ground. The Captain had called him Bucky Barnes, said he had known him back in WWII. So he had stolen some clothes, hidden his arm, put on a hat and gone to the Smithsonian to check the Captain America exhibit. And there had been a pannel about James Buchannan “Bucky” Barnes. With his face on it.

His head had started to hurt, and he had fled out of the museum as if the hounds of hell had been after him. His flight had led him to the bus station, and he had boarded the first one to New York, where he had promptly disappeared amongst the multitude.

He hadn’t known what to do, at first. But there was a voice in his head, young, female.“ _When you get out, because you will get out as well, when you want to come in from the cold, find me. Find us. We’ll help. We’ll always help you, брат. So just... just hold on to that. по́мни (zapomnit'). Remember that.”_ it said, and he remembered. Remembered the little girls with the broken eyes, the little girls who were also weapons, and remembered getting them out.

Masha. Lesya. Varya.  Snezhana. Katya. Anastasia and all the others. 

Prizark, Sasha, who had taken them away to give them a life.

It had been a long shot, hoping that one of them had settled in New York, but it had been better than nothing.

So when he had caught sight of Masha in Hells Kitchen, he had hardly been able to believe it. He had followed her for a while, not quite sure if he wanted to burst into the life she had made for herself. He had watched as she picked up a younger girl - Katya, his usually unhelpful memory had supplied - from school, and he had watched as they started to walk towards where he supposed their home was.

And then some bastard had grabbed them, and he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t quite remember what happened afterwards, only flashes. Masha’s arms around him. Katya hugging him. A hand in his, another grabbing onto his shirt. Walking. A purple schoolbag. A door closing.

And then nothing.

* * *

 

“You collapsed after Masha brought you home” Lesya explains quietly, quickly checking his bandages. “You lost a lot of blood - there was shrapnel in your wounds and they weren’t closing properly. Your ribs were badly bruised, two broken, but they started healing now that you stayed put and slept some.”

Home, she says, and something unfamiliar unfolds in his chest. Home, she says, as if it’s his home too, as if he has a place here.

“Need to leave” he gruffs out. “If they find me...”

A sharp glare from the young woman silences him.

“If they find you” she smiles sweetly “They will come upon the старый опекуны and there won’t be enough left of them to be considered a threat. And that is only if they find out that you’re here, which, given that we put Prizark and Varya on the job, is more than unlikely.”

The smile would unsettle him if he hadn’t seen the exact same one on her face the day she approached him to recruit him in her escape plan.

“’Old Guardians’?” He asks, accepting the bottle of water she hands him when she notices how parched he sounds.

Lesya nods, still smiling. “Old Red Room operatives, from back after WWII. They disappeared after the fall of the Soviet Union, and were officially declared KIA. Prizark met them shortly after killing her handler and escaping. They’re the one who helped us get new identities and settle into our new life. They’re keeping an eye on the trainees who got out one way or the other. And on you. Because you’re one of us too. You’re our большой брат, our big brother.”

“I don’t know who I am” he admits quietly, barely more than a whisper.

Lesya surprises him by sitting next to him on the bed and taking his hand in her own.

“That’s okay” She says. “We can help you figure it out. Who you were matters, yes, but it’s who you are now that matters the most, and you get to decide that for yourself.”

Choice. It’s so foreign, to him. In the last seven decades, all he has had were orders. Imperatives. Directives.

[Helping the trainees escape doesn’t count. It wasn’t a choice, it wasn’t even something he had had to think about. It had been instinct, obligation, need. It had been something that stayed with him, despite the wipes, despite the chair. They never made him forget the trainees, and since they didn’t know he had helped them escape they never made him forget that either.]

“Like the hair” he says, trying to keep the conversation away from darker subjects. He’s not used to talking so much.

Lesya laughs, fingering the short blue and black locks. “Thanks. I got some crap over it from my shift supervisor, but there’s nothing in the hospital code about it so she can’t do anything. My mentor loves it, though.”

“Hospital?”

She positively beams at him. “I’m a nurse-in-training!” She tells him proudly. “And a damn good one!” She quiets somewhat. “I was tired of only hurting people” she whispers, not quite meeting his eyes. “I would much rather heal them. I didn’t want to become a doctor - takes too long, and medical school is so not in our budget - but a nurse... that I can do.”

He ruffles her hair. It’s instinct now, a small comforting gesture he used to give the trainees after a training session when the handlers had their backs turned.

“I’m proud of you, doll” He smiles honestly, and she looks up at him, bashful smile one her face, before burying her face in his chest as her arms come around him for a hug.

He’s getting hugged a lot, Soldat notes, slightly bemused even as he returns the embrace. He doesn’t notice he said that aloud until she speaks up.

“Expect a lot of hugs in the future” she tells him. “I told you - you’re our big brother and we missed you.”

Physical contact had been forbidden, in the Red Room. It had taken some adjusting, once they were out, but most of them agreed that hugs were one of the best part of being free.

“What about the others?” He asks instead.

Most of the girls found new families, he learns. They stay in contact in case of emergency, but try not to let the past affect their lives. Varya (brown hair, grey eyes too old for her body, a scarily smart girl with a keen intellect and a smart mouth who used to get harshly punished for speaking out of turn) is planning on becoming the head of her own information network.

Masha is studying psychology at the local community college, Lesya explains proudly, and works at the bakery down the street in between her classes. Katya lives with them, she wouldn’t take no for an answer and they didn’t have the heart to stop her either way. She goes to a decent primary school a few blocks away and currently wants to be an astronaut. Two weeks ago it had been a vet, and the week before that a firefighter. They’re saving whatever spare money they have to take her on vacation somewhere for next birthday.

He’s actually in Katya’s room, purple walls and blue police boxes and pictures of her with Lesya and Masha and pictures with other kids. She’s sleeping in the other room with Masha, Lesya having sent them both to bed with promises to watch over him.

He smiles slightly when she blushes and admits that Masha and her have been a couple for the past two years now, and he ruffles her hair again. He’s happy for them. They’re good kids, who were ready to sacrifice themselves to get the younger ones out (he had vetoed their diversion suggestion as soon as it had been proposed. There had been no way he was letting these two stubborn kids get themselves killed when he could help), and they deserve to be happy.

He’s not quite sure where he fits into that. 

There’s a lull in the conversation Lesya leaning against him, one of his arms around her shoulders. He will never admit it out loud, but the physical contact is grounding him, healing him even if he’s terrified of hurting her, hurting them.

“Captain America is looking for you” the nurse-to-be says softly.

“He’s looking for Bucky Barnes” He answers shortly. “And I don’t know who I am, but I know I’m not the man he remembers.”

He feels her nod against him.

“Okay.”

He hesitates.

“I don’t want to see him. Not now.”

“Okay.” She repeats. “Then he won’t find you until you want him to.”

He pauses. Looks at her. She’s smiling again, and it would send shivers down his spine if he didn’t know for certainty that it wasn’t directed at him.

“What did you crazy kids do this time?” he half-smiles, half-sighs.

“Nothing much. Just sent the Star-Spangled arse on a wild goose chase in Arkansas. We’re thinking about sending him to Russia next” she adds with a grim smirk. “Romanova is helping him. If they insist on going after you, they might as well make themselves useful and it well past time for the Widow to get rid of the Red Room once and for all.”

Soldat’s eyebrows rise.

“I swear you kids only got scarier since I last saw you.” He states, and he’s entirely serious.

Lesya positively preens at the compliment.

* * *

 

They both know that it’s not going to be easy. They both know that he will get worse before he gets better, that there will nightmares and panic attacks and moment when he won’t remember who he is or who they are. They both know that despite their best effort, they might be found out, either by HYDRA or by the “good guys”, and that there would be fights, and dark nights spent patching each other up or trying to get the other to snap out of an episode.

But right here, right now, with his arm around a girl he last saw half-dead after being injected by a super soldier serum and two other of his kids asleep in the next room, knowing that the rest of them are safe and doing their best to help him, Soldat can’t help but relax. He’s content, he realizes, relieved. Happy even, as much as one can be in his mental state.

He barely notices it when he starts to drift off, but Lesya does. She smiles as she coaxes him into laying down again. He’ll stay, she knows now. If he trusts them enough to let his guard down and fall asleep in an unknown environnement, then he already knows on some level that he won’t leave.


	5. I thank whatever gods may be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy is silent for a moment.
> 
> “I did my best” she says bitterly. “But it apparently wasn’t enough. When did you get out?”
> 
> Masha freezes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised a meeting with Team Cap... But Peggy happened. First confrontation with Team Cap (mostly Black Widow) next chapter, I swear!

It's surprisingly easy, Soldat finds, to fit himself into their lives. He insists on taking the couch (which turns out to be a pull-out bed anyway), and he helps with the chores (no one is more surprised than he is when he turns out to be a decent cook, and Masha is quick to assign him the permanent kitchen duty.).

He stays inside the apartment, not yet ready to face the world and still wary of bringing the wrong kind of attention on the girls. He keeps himself busy, playing with Katya, helping all three of them with their hand to hand training, instructing Masha in the finer arts of knife fighting and teaching Lesya how to control her enhanced strength and senses no matter the situation.

He learns more about himself, reads the reports Varya hacks from HYDRA and the Red Room, reads the one that were leaked when SHIELD fell. He tries to reconcile the reports with his shaky memory. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. He wakes up sweating and shaking, and there are nights when he barely makes it to the bathroom and nights when he doesn’t make it in time.

Through all of this, they stand by him.

Masha insists on being there when he reads about the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes. She talks him through what happened, talks him through the panic attacks and reminds him that, while he may have been the bullet, HYDRA pulled the trigger. He had been a weapon, a POW turned brainwashed Soldier, not that different from Child Soldier. Not that different from them.

She helps him look up the people he killed, their families, and she helps him send flowers to the graves of those who should not have died.

When he learns about Howard and Maria Stark, she rubs his back comfortingly as he heaves over the toilet until nothing but bile comes up.

“I knew him” he rasps out brokenly. “He was a friend. He helped get me out of HYDRA’s grasp the first time, and I killed him.”

His memory is coming back in flashes, triggered by the reports, and there are days he wishes it hadn't, days when it tears him apart.

It’s Lesya who stays with him at night, who wakes him up from his nightmares because she’s the only one who might have a chance if he goes berserk.

Sometimes, he doesn't know where he is when he wakes, doesn't know who they are, but they never falter, never shy away from him in fear. Instead, they talk, Katya about what she learned at school that day, Masha about the bother escapees, Lesya about her nurse mentor who appears to have an unhealthy habit of finding superhero wannabes in her dumpster. They talk until the wild, confused look leaved his eyes, and they hug him and stay with him until he stops shaking.

He's pretty sure he doesn’t deserves them. They’re pretty sure that he deserves so much more than they can give him. 

They agree to disagree.

* * *

 

He’s been staying with them for nearly a month when Masha meets Peggy Carter.

Peggy Carter is the closest thing Masha has to a hero that is not her brother. She was a war hero, she was a spy and a woman at a time when the World wanted neither, and she founded SHIELD before it went down the drain.

She’s also the first person to find out about the Red Room and the first to give a damn about the girls in it despite her encounters with Dottie Underwood. Five facilities went down during her time as a field agent during the cold war, and nearly eighty young girls got a chance at a Real life thanks to her.

The Red Room went dark after that, hiding better, and led everyone to believe that they had disbanded when the wall fell. But the SHIELD documents had revealed that Peggy Carter had kept a close eye on Russia ever since.

That’s more than anyone else, even Romanova, did, and Masha will forever be grateful to her for that.

The fact that what little Soldat remembers of her makes her sound like à pretty awesome person does not hurt.

It’s school that allows her to meet her idol. She’s planning on specializing on rehabilitating Child Soldiers, and her professor manages to get her an interview with SHIELD’s erstwhile founder to discuss her work with the Red Room girls.

The irony is not lost on her, but she jumps on the occasion nonetheless.

* * *

 

She meets Peggy Carter in a private retirement home. Dementia, her teacher told her. Most of the time she feels fine, but there are days when she gets lost in her head.

Today is a good day, however, and she’s led to the garden where her idol is waiting for her.

“ So you’re writing a paper on me” Agent Carter says, and it’s the agent speaking, not the director, not the old lady, and Masha straightens up instinctively.

“Not exactly. I wanted to talk to you about the Red Room, and the girls you got out. I want to specialize in helping traumatized child soldiers and other brainwashed kids. The Red Room did both, and you helped them so…”

Carter nods.

“Most of that is still classified, I'm afraid, and don't expect me to name any of the kids. They have their own life now, and I don’t wan’t anyone to find them again”

She scowls.

“Bad enough that there was a reptile infiltration in my bloody agency. Ask your questions, young lady, and i’ll answer if i can.”

The interview goes well, Masha taking notes as well as recording their conversation.

“Thank you very much for your time” she says as she turns the recorder off. “I really appreciate it. It’s admirable, what you did for these kids.”

Peggy is silent for a moment.

“I did my best” she says bitterly. “But it apparently wasn’t enough. When did you get out?”

Masha freezes.

A breathe.

 “Four years ago. Me and nineteen others. But you did what you could, Agent Carter, and that’s more than anybody else save other deserters.”

“It should never have happened to your generation” Peggy says grimly.

 “I know. But it happened, we got out and now we’re doing our best to get others out.” She smiles sadly. “Why do you think I chose psychology?”

“If you need anything, if there’s anything I can do, just ask.” Peggy insists.

 Masha pauses.

 “I have a friend.” She says cautiously. “The one who got us out. He only just got out himself, and he’s even worse off than we were at the time. He’s trying, we’re trying to help him heal, but he’s still coming to terms with what he did” she gulped. “It wasn't his fault, his mind… it wasn’t his own, but he was still the one who committed their crimes, and they’re trying to get him back. But he’s also been spotted by some people from before they got to him, and they’re also trying to find him…” 

“And he’s not ready for it” Peggy sighs. “ I know the feeling. What can I do?”

Masha hesitates. Lesya might kill her for this. (Might. She is just as much of a Carter fangirl as Masha, and they had been talking about getting her help on the Red Room situation anyway.) And if Lesya doesn’t, Sasha and the старый опекуны (staryy opekuny: old guardians) definitely will.

 She is saving from answering when realisation dawns on the elderly lady’s face.

“Barnes” she breathes out, shocked but quickly controlling her emotions again. “What can I do? “ She asks again. “Keep in mind that Steven won’t stop looking for him even if I ask him to.”

“You’re taking all of this pretty well.” Masha notes.

Carter scoffs.

“I’m Old and I’ve seen a lot of weird things in my life, young lady. Honestly, this is not as surprising as it could have been. Steven told me about Barnes when he visited me after the whole shebang, and Barnes being the Winter Soldier actually makes a lot of sense. I’m not surprised he managed to get you out - he always had a soft spot for kids and he could never resist women who could kill him with their pinky.”

“He’s calling himself Soldat, for now. We call him Big brother. He doesn’t see himself as Bucky Barnes, not yet anyway. we’re dealing with the HYDRA goons, but Rogers is getting annoying. Brother is not ready to see him, and he’s not the man Rogers remembers. We’re doing to send his team on a false track to Russia and get them to deal with the Red Room while they're at it. We don’t have the power, political or military, to do more than get some of the kids out, but with the might of the Avengers…”

“Smart Idea” Peggy nods. “Keeps them occupied and out of your hair. I’ll try to insists on the Red Room when he visits next. As for Barnes… tell him he’s welcome to visit me as long as he’s discreet about it. My grand nephews are being sanctimonious little brats, thinking I need to be protected and kept out of the loop. They even took my guns, the nerve of them!”

Masha laughs.

“No wonder brother thought we'd get along like a house on fire” she smiles, taking out à ceramic knife from her boot. “It’s not a gun, but it’s better than nothing and I would rather you have something to defend yourself with in case HYDRA decides to seek you out. I’ll see if i can convince brother to visit you and bring you something better. Any preference?”

Peggy beams “Oh I _like_ you girly!”

* * *

 Bucky goes to visit her that very night. He’s hesitant, worried, not quite sure he’s ready for it, but he goes, and he takes a small pocket gun with him.

 He doesn't tell them what Peggy said, but when he gets back he’s calmer. Less haunted. More grounded.

 It saves Masha from Lesya’s wrath (along with a promise to bring the nurse student with her on a follow up interview). Peggy Carter swore to keep their secret, and her dementia means that few would take her seriously even if she lets something slip.

 The plan to send the Avengers to Russia is nearly finished. Varya is fabricating sightings of the Winter Soldier all over the place, and Sasha is arranging the extraction of the twenty eight new recruits (not one of them is older than six, and it makes Masha want to kill someone).

 Of course, this is when everything goes FUBAR, but thankfully they’re good at that.


	6. Under the bludgeonings of chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Widow is still looking at them weirdly, and Masha resists the urge to sigh. So much for keeping a low profile, any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, first confrontation with the Avengers!

It all goes to hell when Varya reports that Yelena Belova, the OTHER black widow, has been spotted in the area, and the Old Guardians lay down the law. No one is to go anywhere alone. They don’t know if Belova is after Soldat, after the escapees or after Romanova. And no one is to try and confront her ( _that means you, Masha)_. She is still loyal to their former master, has been training longer than any of them has been alive and she has no concept of mercy.

So of course they are all so focused on the threat posed by the russian assassin that they don’t notice the new villain setting up shop in Hell’s Kitchen until he takes Katya’s school hostage.

* * *

 

He’s a powered, whether natural or scientifically engineered Masha doesn't know, but his power is electricity and he’s threatening to fry all the kids if the president doesn't agree to his terms.

Of course, this has to happen on the day when Masha is giving a capoeira demonstration to Katya’s class ( _“It’s martial arts disguised as dancing, brother. Of course I was going to learn it, and the sooner the kids learn to defend themselves the better._ ”). They are stuck in the classroom, the entire school surrounded by an electrical force field, and all Masha can think about is that Soldat will definitely flip out and that there is no way Lesya will be able to prevent him from rushing here, discretion be damned.

Of course, because her luck _is_ that bad, the Avengers are called in.

They are outside the school, in full uniforms. All except Doctor Banner, but then Masha can understand that no one wants the Hulk to smash the villain of the week and the school with him. Besides, in this situation, his intellect is much more useful.

She sighs, takes her phone out again. No luck. The guy’s power is interfering, and her phone has no signal. She’s already asked the teacher if the school had any secret passages or entrances to the sewer, without success. It’s been over two hours already, and their captor is starting to get antsy. All the students have been forced into the cafeteria, where he can keep an eye on them. Most of them are crying, the teachers desperately trying to keep them calm. Katya is glued to her side, one hand gripping her sparkly blue belt where her favorite knife is concealed. Masha has five more on her person, but is reluctant to reveal herself for now. Widow is just outside of the school, and Belova is lurking around, as are HYDRA goons (most likely following Cap in the hope of finding Soldat, and Masha just wants to kill them all).

Still, if the asshole makes so much as a move against the kids, she’s going to castrate him and make him eat his own testicles.

At some point she sees an arrow hit the barrier and catch fire. Hawkeye, she guesses. Of all the Avengers, he’s probably her favourite, the only non enhanced human on the team. And, after reading what he went through with Loki, she feels like he might be the one most likely to understand what they’re going through.

Still, arrows are a no-go. Bullets might pass through, however, and she wonders for a moment why no one tried that yet, then remembers that the newbie villain has been carefully keeping himself away from the windows. And from the way Sparky is looking over the assembled hostages, he’s going to want to give the Avengers a seriously warning. Her fists clench. Brother is never going to let them out of the house again. And he had been making such progress lately!

“You!” Sparky barks, pointing at Katya. “Get over here!”

Masha balks, wants to protest and volunteer in her sister’s place, but the child shakes her head imperceptibly. _I can do this_ , her eyes tell her. _We have no clue how his powers work!_ Masha glares. _Then I’ll just have to make sure he doesn't have the time to use them._

* * *

 

Katya walks up to their captor, blond curls in a low ponytail with a blue ribbon, big blue eyes, white dress with little TARDISes all over and a sparkly blue belt. She’s the poster child for innocence, and that’s exactly why the man chose her.

If he so much as makes her hair stand up on her head, Masha is going to skin him alive.

A small flash of lights outside the school catches her attention. There, perched on top of one of the buildings facing them, is the familiar glint of a rifle. Good. Much as she hates the Idea of Soldat out in the open, a weapon in his hands for the first time since he got away, it’s reassuring to know that he’s there.

The Old Guardians are going to have their heads for this, she just knows it.

Katya is now within arm's reach of the creep, and a few things happen near simultaneously.

The villain grabs her by the arm, moving ever so slightly and inadvertently putting himself in front of the window.

A bullet shatters the window and lodges itself in his shoulder, causing him to let Katya go.

The forcefield collapses.

The little girl slams her elbow into his crotch [ _The elbow is o_ _ne of the hardest part of the body_ , Soldat had reminded them just three days ago], then leaps away.

Masha rushes forward, and punches him in the face before slamming him to the floor and sitting on him.

And Black Widows jumps in through the broken window, obviously having gotten a lift from Iron Man or Falcon.

* * *

 

Masha can think of about a hundred swearwords that would be appropriate for the situation, none of which are appropriate for public utterance given the number of children around her.

Instead, she settles for glaring at the idiot who landed them in this mess until Romanova is standing in front of her, bulky handcuffs at the ready.

“These should prevent him from using his powers” she says sharply.

Masha nods, but does not moves until the cuffs are secured. Then she stands up, hauls Sparky up and pushes him towards Romanova.

Next thing she knows Katya is barrelling into her arms bawling her eyes out about how scared she was. Smart girl, Masha thinks, cementing their cover like that. She knows better than to think the child had been scared by the wannabe villain of the week. She does believe, however, from the way she avoids even looking at the Black Widow, that her sister is terrified of giving away their past, or, worse, the location of Soldat.

Cops are entering the Room now, escorting the students and teachers out. Captain America and IronMan are there too, and their simple presence is enough to calm the kids (or, at least, get them excited about something else) so Masha does her best not to glare at the man who sent her brother on a number of panic attacks in the past few weeks.

“That was dangerous, what you did” Black Widow says as the criminal is being dragged out by the Falcon. “You could have been seriously hurt, both of you.”

“What, ordinary citizen cannot defend themselves? “ Masha snipes, hugging her sister tighter. “We took self defense classes. He was distracted by the bullet. Katie got herself away and I knocked him to the ground. The barrier was down so odds were pretty good that one of you superheroes would be in asap. And if not, well I would rather the crazy guy with the weird powers uses me as target practice in anger than the kids.”

She is outright glaring at her now, which seems to take the sole female member of the Avengers aback.

“I did not mean to insult you”

“Well you did. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to get my sister home. I’ll give my statement to the cops outside, but it’s been a harsh afternoon, she’s scared and both our brother and my girlfriend are probably going mad with worry.”

And with that she gathers the nine year old in her arms and walks out, all too aware of the eyes locked on her.

In the corner of her eyes, she sees Cap go rigid as he receives a message through his earpiece before running out.

Crap. That means Soldat has been spotted.

In the split seconds it takes her to notice that, her phone rings and she puts Katya down to answer it.

“Are you and Katie okay?” Lesya asks breathlessly. “I saw the news and I ran to the school as fast as I could ! Your brother is flipping out, but I managed to get him back home after he had an episode when we heard the gunshot!”

Translation: Soldat went back to the apartment after shooting the perpetrator, but his mental state is not promising and they really need to get home soon.

“We’re alright, not a scratch. Katie got scared, but she was very brave and managed to elbow the bastard in the nuts when he grabbed her. I knocked him to the ground and then the Black Widow did the rest.  We still have to give our witness statement, but as soon as that is done we’ll go straight home, I promise. Take care of my brother please?”

“Always. We’ll be waiting for you then.”

The Black Widow is still looking at them weirdly, and Masha resists the urge to sigh. So much for keeping a low profile, any of them.

  



	7. I am the master of my fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Martha Jones. Born January 21st, 1991 in Nashville, Tennessee. Moved to New York with your little sister Katie six years ago after the death of your parents, to live with your grandmother, Irina Petrovna, a retired ballet teacher.”
> 
> “Oh so just because my baba happens to be russian means I have to be a HYDRA plant? Congrats on such a beautiful piece of racial profiling bullshit” Masha retorts. “You do realise that given your reasoning, Widow is probably one of HYDRA’s heads?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you go!
> 
> I'm leaving on a holiday for a week (I'm going to Rome! So excited!) so there might not be any update until I'm back.

Masha meets Hawkeye three days later, when she gets cornered by three thugs who’ve seen her and Lesya around a few times and are convinced that they can ‘convert’ her back to men.

Morons.

She’s just done knocking the second attacker out and turns around, only to find that her last prey has already been pinned to the wall by arrows.

“ I could have taken him” she mutters, punching the guy in the nuts for good measure.

“Oh I don’t doubt that” Someone laughs as a man jumps down from a fire escape. “You fight well. Your style is very similar to Widow’s, actually” Clint Barton points out as he lands next to her,

“Did she send you to stalk me or something?”Masha complains as she tries to straighten her clothes and makes sure that there are no blood splatters. “I know I beat her to her prize by beating up the sparky idiot on Monday, but she seriously needs to let it go. Though, kudos to her for sending the one Avenger I’ve the least objections about.”

“I’m your favorite?” Barton beams, pleasantly surprised, as he starts to walk next to her.

“Only non-enhanced being on the team, kicks ass and a sniper? Yeah. Captain America is too much of a sanctimonious goody two shoes, Banner seems nice enough but the Hulk has no notion of property damage, Thor is more brawls than brains and Stark is too ostentatious for my taste. My sister likes the other Hawkeye better, though - purple. She likes her style. Are you going to walk me home? And don’t think I didn't notice that you evaded the question.”

It’s a damn good thing that Lesya decided to take Soldat to meet up with some other trainees just in case the Avengers (or, more specifically, Romanova) decided to look further into them, and didn’t take no for an answer, because that would have been hard to explain to the archer.

“I was in the area and got curious when I heard a fight” he shrugs. “Figured I could give whoever was in trouble a hand. Why don’t you like Widow? I would have thought, as the only girl in the Avengers, she’d be pretty popular.”

Masha snorts.

“This is Hell’s Kitchen, in case you haven’t noticed. That means Daredevil’s territory. Even if I wasn’t as skilled in self-defence as I am,  I would have been fine even if you hadn't shown up. Daredevil has a pretty good sense for trouble.”

Also, she thinks, for knowing when he shouldn’t step in. Many had wondered where he had been when the school was taken hostage. But his particular skill set had been ill-suited for the situation, especially when the Avengers had been called in pretty much the minute the police had heard about it. The red-suited vigilante has enough trouble with the law, Masha muses. And probably has a day job he couldn’t really leave like that.

“As for Widow, she needs to learn to clean up the messes she leaves behind” is all she adds, and then she stays silent until the door closes behind her.

* * *

 

“I’m giving them forty eight hours until they take me in for questioning” She sighs as she sits down in front of Sasha, who’s staying with her and Katya until either Lesya and Soldat come back or Belova is dealt with. 

“Let them.” The Specter snorts. “We have countermeasures in place, in part thanks to your meeting with Carter. I’m leaving for Russia in three days. This is actually a good thing - I bet you Romanova will want to deal with the Red Room herself, and if she doesn’t Rogers doesn’t seem the type to let that go. Especially if you let it slip that Belova is in town.”

“True. Honestly, if she gets rid of the Bitch and actually starts working on taking the bastards down, it would be a weight off all of our shoulders.” Masha nods thoughtfully, before groaning. “Brother is going to kill me. And if he doesn’t, Lesya and Katya will. This means the apartment is compromised.”

“Why do you think Lesya took him to Philly?” Sasha raises an eyebrow. “The event at the school was not your fault. Honestly, I would probably have done worse”

Because where Masha prefers knives and hand to hand, Sasha is deadly with a gun, and has at least five of them hidden somewhere on her person at all time. Usually more.

“True. Doesn’t mean I have to like the fact that it got me the attention of the fucking Avengers” the younger woman sighs as she rakes her fingers through her shoulder-length brown curls. “Especially Widow. Ugh. This is going to be such a pain.”

The Specter laughs. 

“Hey, you get to be your charming smart-assed self to Romanova AND Rogers, don’t complain. Besides, we have your back, and the Old Guardians are ready to step in at any time. Everything will be fine. Keep any mention of Soldat out of it, direct them towards Belova and the Red Room, and make sure they know that the trainees are ours. We’ll do the rest.”

* * *

 

The Black Widow is waiting for her two days later when Masha gets out of work, and the twenty-years old is suddenly very, very glad that Lesya decided to take Soldat to visit some of the other escapees in Philadelphia as soon as he calmed down after the mess at the school.

Because if Rogers is enough to send him into a full-blown panic attack, his memories of Romanova are apparently confusing enough that he’s divided between panic attacks, emotional outbursts, guilt and wanting to kill her, all culminating in him not wanting any of his girls anywhere near the red haired assassin.

“You again.” she states, hefting her backpack on her shoulder. “Any particular reason you’re stalking me?”

“We would like to ask you a few questions regarding the events of Monday” Natasha Romanova answers evenly. “If you would follow me.”

“Not like I have a choice” Masha snorts derisively. “You’re the fucking Black Widow and odds are that Hawkeye is hiding somewhere to make sure I can’t get away. Sure, I’ll follow you. Just let me send my sister a text saying I’ll be late.”

She takes her phone out.

“I’ll even be nice and let you see the message I’m sending” she says humorlessly. 

 

**Hey Katie, I will probably be late - the Avengers want to talk to me about Sparky. If I’m not back in time for supper, give Gran a call. Oh and can you please print the paper I finished last night? Thanks.**

 

She throws her phone at Romanova. “There you go. Satisfied?”

Instead of replying, the Avenger simply motions her towards a waiting car.

* * *

 

She’s led to what looks like an interrogation room in Avengers Tower. Stark, Rogers and Barton are already there.

“Just a few questions?” She snarks. “I guess I should have expected the full on inquisition. You’re sure you don’t want to handcuff me to that chair while you’re at it? Since you seem determined to ignore my constitutional rights and all?”

A snort from Stark. “I like her!” the billionaire states.

“You’re under suspicion of belonging to a terrorist group” Romanova cuts sharply.

“Okay… which one? I feel obligated to tell you that being a student does not make me a terrorist, not even the fact that I’m studying psychology. And neither does the fact that I’m lesbian.”

“HYDRA.”

Masha frowns and crosses her arms.

“Okay, I get it, you’re pissed because I kicked Sparky’s ass and stole your thunder. But still, to accuse me of being a HYDRA minion? That’s harsh, Widow, real harsh. And here I thought you guys were supposed to be the good guys.”

She’s relatively sure that Soldat would be tearing his hair out if he could hear her. Lesya too. Varya would definitely approve, though, as would Sasha. Besides, all the sources say that Bucky Barnes used to be a sassy little shit, so Soldat would not have the right to complain, really.

“Martha Jones. Born January 21st, 1991 in Nashville, Tennessee. Moved to New York with your little sister Katie six years ago after the death of your parents, to live with your grandmother, Irina Petrovna, a retired ballet teacher.”

“Oh so just because my baba happens to be russian means I have to be a HYDRA plant? Congrats on such a beautiful piece of racial profiling bullshit” Masha retorts. “You do realise that given your reasoning, Widow is probably one of HYDRA’s heads?”

* * *

 

She can feel Romanova’s patience being tested, and it’s glorious. She will never be able to beat her in a straight out fight. But words? That she can do.

“The fact that your grandmother is russian has nothing to do with it, except for the fact where it is a lie” Rogers speaks up for the first time. “Neither you, nor your ‘sister’ existed before you arrived in New York.”

“And the fact that you move like a trained soldier is speaking against you, kiddo” Hawkeye adds, though he has the decency to look somewhat ill at ease, thus cementing his place as her favorite.

“Why is there no record of you from before 2007?” Rogers asks, face grim.

“Geeze, I don’t know, you tell me since you all seem convinced that I’m some sort of big bad spy just because I didn’t let some creep hurt the kids?” Masha asks back. “And for your information, Captain Fucking America, there are a lot of reasons for someone to change their identities and start anew, and most of them have nothing to do with being a fucking terrorist. And don’t you dare lecture me on my language when you’re the one who decided to put me through a fucking inquisition just because I can fight somewhat decently!” she adds seeing his face.

“You will answer us”Romanova says  threateningly. “Or we’ll have to find other ways to get the information.”

Masha immediately understands the implied warning. “You stay the fuck away from my sister!” she snarls, jumping up. “She’s  _ nine _ you bitch! She’s just a kid!”

She starts pacing rageously, staying out of reach of any of the Avengers.

“And here I thought you were supposed to be ‘heroes’” she laughs darkly. “And yet when she suggests interrogating a nine years old little girl, none of you protests.”

She turns to face Rogers.

“You want to know why most of my life is out of your reach? Because I thought I had escaped this shit!” she snarls. “Should have figured it would end like this.”

She takes a deep breathe. Calms herself inwardly, though she keeps the furious facade. They think they have her, think they cracked her sarcastic mask and that she’s now showing her true face. 

She’s playing them like a fiddle and it’s almost too easy.

“We’re in the fucking witness protection program” she spits at Romanova. “That’s why you can’t find anything on us. That’s why I want to work with brainwashed and traumatized kids. Because we grew up in a fucking cult until I got us out four years ago. But hey, it’s not like I’m still going through therapy because of this shit, right? It’s not like you just threw it at my face and told me I was a fucking HYDRA goon.”

“Liar. There are no records of either of you in WitSec” Stark counters calmly. “And I checked.”

“That is enough Antony!” a sharp voice says from the door, which had just opened.

 


	8. Black as the pit from pole to pole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they take the subway back to Hell's Kitchen, Masha thinks back on her day.  
> Getting kidnapped and interrogated by the Avengers? Check.  
> Win a battle of wits against the Black Widow? Check.  
> Scold and guilt trip the star spangled walking piece of propaganda, and implicitly telling him off for his handling of the Bucky situation? Check (not that the captain seemed to take the hint, but hey, hope for the best and prepare for the shitfest had always been more her thing anyway).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And I could really use some feedback, if you guys don't mind. Chapters 7 and 8 were really hard to write, and I'm not entirely satisfied with them...

Peggy Carter is standing there, a fretting Katya holding her hand and another old woman with a stern face standing behind her. She’s standing on her own, no cane or chair in sight, and Masha can’t hide her smile.

_ She has good days and bad days _ , her teacher had warned her the first time she visited the former director of SHIELD.

Peggy Carter is apparently having a fantastic day, if the way she moves is anything to go by, and Masha can't help but wish for popcorn, because this was going to be _good_.

“Peggy?” Steve Rogers says, shocked. 

“Not now, Steven.” She says sharply, stepping into the room and dropping a pile of files on the table. “Are you alright, Darling?” she asks Masha.

“Yeah. Could have done without Widow threatening Katie to get me to talk.” she answers shortly, causing the former Director to glare at the Avengers. “Not sure if she would have done it, but to even suggest it…”

Masha is standing close to Peggy Carter, Katya latching on her as soon as the british lady let go of her hand.

Margaret Carter looks at the three men and one woman standing on the other side of the room.

“These girls are under my personal protection under the HERAKLES protocols” she states firmly. “And I made damn sure that no one would be able to find them again, and that included SHIELD. You will leave them alone, and that includes you, Natalia!”

The Black Widow winces at the name.

“There is no way she’s twenty years old” she protests, pointing at Masha. “I recognize that training, and the HERAKLES protocols were discontinued in the early nineties!”

* * *

 

The HERAKLES protocols (and wasn’t the name ironic, the great hero who killed the HYDRA? Carter had done her best, though, but a head had not been entirely cauterised and here they are now.). A program put in place to protect the girls the Howling Commandos and Margaret Carter had managed to extract from the Red Room. Psychological treatement, new identities, protection, everything had been handled exclusively by the Howling Commandos and people Carter trusted implicitely.

It had been one of the very few programs whose informations had not been in the big reveal follwing the fall of SHIELD (Masha knows that for sure: Varya checked, and made sure that any document that could endanger them would not fall in the wrong hands).

(Sometimes, the information specialist scares her. And then she remembers that she’s on their side, and Masha breathes out a sigh of relief.)

* * *

 

“The only true information in my background was my year of birth, Romanova” Masha snarls back. “And if you had just cleaned up the messes you left behind, I would not have that training!”

Natasha Romanova takes a step back as if she has just been slapped.

“You asked me two days ago why I didn’t like the Black Widow, Barton” she goes on, addressing the archer who’s leaning against the wall, observing the situation without taking an active part.”Well here’s why! She was the first to leave the Red Room, and it got even worse afterwards, yet, despite being in the best position to stop it, what with being part of SHIELD and the Avengers, she never even tried. Don’t expect us to like her when it’s her fault we had to go through Hell.”

She turns back towards the redhead. 

“You left the Red Room decades ago, Romanova” Masha’s voice is colder than ice. “And never once did you come back to check. What, did you think the Red Room fell apart when you left it? Or that it died with the rest of the Soviet Union when the Wall fell? Got a bit of news for you: it didn’t! And since you couldn’t be bothered to make sure they were destroyed, they continued!”

She goes on point with her right foot, throws her left leg in the air behind her, a perfect arabesque.

“I am one of 28 ballerinas with the Bolshoi” she mocks. “I’m one of many generations of twenty eight Black Widow trainees who was robbed of her childhood because some assholes were determined to create another you, one that would be strong enough to take the ‘traitor’ down. I’m one of three survivors of my generation of trainees, I’m one of twenty escapees who managed to get out four years ago. Never again accuse me of being a HYDRA plant. You don’t get to judge me when it’s your fault that I ended up like this”

She walks towards the door and the waiting woman, Katya trailing behind her.

“Stay away from us, Romanova.”

“I didn’t know” the Russian spy speaks quietly.

“You never tried to know.” Masha corrects her acerbly.” You didn’t before coming to SHIELD and you didn’t once you were in. You obviously know about the HERAKLES protocols, which means that you  _ knew _ that they had continued after you left. You could have asked Director Carter about it, shared your knowledge of the Red Room’s Modus Operandi, tried to find out if they were still in activity or not. You didn’t. You had the means to do something about it and you didn’t. Thankfully for us, while you might have been the best, you were not the only Widow who got out, and the others have been better at keeping track of the Red Room and getting the trainees out, with Director Carter's help.”

The elder woman glares at Natasha, making it clear that she is one of the ‘others’ Masha is talking about.

“You want to make amends, Romanova? To wipe the red out of your ledger? Yelena fucking Belova is in New York, whether she's after you, us or the Winter Soldier is still in the air but since she was basically created to be your equal, you get to deal with her. Or go to Russia and deal with the Red Room once and for all. You’ve got the Avengers on your side, after all, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Don’t worry about the trainees in the facility near St Petersbourg” she checks her watch. “they will be out in about ten hours. And do us all a favour and don’t try to approach the girls in the other facilities you might find. You’re enemy number one in the brainwashing program, and we don’t want any incidents. Leave the kids to us. Irina Petrovna” she points at the woman dressed in a long green dress. “will be going with you to take care of them.”

“They’ll need to be brought back to their families.” Rogers nods, and Masha really, really wants to punch him in his perfect teeth.

“Families?” She gives a dry laugh. “None of us had any. The Red Room targets orphans, Captain, girls no one will miss. And even if they didn’t, do you really think any of us could have gone back home, just like that? After all we’d been through? No, Captain. As much as I loved my papa, if he hadn’t died and the Red Room had still gotten to me, I don’t think I could have gone home, at least not straight away. Do you know what they did to us? Brainwashing, training, hypnosis, the first injection, that’s easy, compared to the rest of what we went through. But then, sometimes, in training, the loser dies at the winner’s hand, because it’s survival of the fittest. Sometimes they make you fight the girl you’re closest to, and you learn not to form bonds because breaking them fucking hurts. Sometimes you’re sent out on a seduction mission, and it doesn’t matter that you’re only thirteen, there is a target that needs to be fucked, another that needs to die and information that needs to be extracted. And sometimes they take one of you away and you never see her again, because their fucking super spy serum kills nine times out of ten, and you know you might be next. Do you know what that does to your soul? I am not the same person I was before the Red Room and HYDRA fucked up my life. I’ll never be that person again, and not just because that girl was only five. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was still going through therapy. Odds are, most of us will for most of our lives. That’s why I’m studying psychology, that’s why I want to work with kids who’ve gone through this shit. It’ll take time, it’ll take many, many months of deprogramming and therapy sessions and relearning control of their own mind before they are in any way ready to face the outside world again. And that’s only for the youngests. The olders ones, the ones like me, who have already been sent on missions and have already have to kill, have been tortured and have tortured? It’ll take even longer.”

She pauses, takes a deep breath.

“You leave these kids to us, Captain, or we will come after you and get them ourselves. We know better than any of you what they will need to recover from this.”

She turns her back to them, choosing to face Peggy Carter instead.

“Thank you for coming, Director Carter” she bows slightly. “I’m sorry we had to call you out of retirement because of this.”

The former SHIELD director waves her apologies away.

“Don’t worry Darling, it was nice to get out of the home for a while. I’ll stay and catch up with my godson and his friends, you go home with your sister and grandmother. I’ll make sure they leave you be - that means no surveillance of any kind, Antony! Other escapees might come to see them, and I gave them my words that they would be left alone!” She slaps her hand on the pile of files she brought with her. “None of you are leaving this room until you’ve signed these and swear never to tell anyone of what transpired here.”

The british spy then turns towards Romanova.

“While you're planning how to take out the Red Room, Natalia, you might want to do something about Belova, because I'm tiring of her being in the same city as my girls” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

Said girls are almost out of the room when Rogers stops them.

“Wait!” He says, and his voice is somewhat desperate, though he hides it well. “You mentioned that Belova might be after the Winter Soldier. Why?”

Masha looks at him as if he is particularly slow.

“Because Belova is loyal to both the Red Room and HYDRA and neither is happy that their weapon vanished into thin air?” she mocks.

And with these words the escapees finally leave the room, following behind the Old Guardian who looks particularly unimpressed (whether with them or with the Avengers remains to be seen).

* * *

As they take the subway back to Hell's Kitchen, Masha thinks back on her day.

Getting kidnapped and interrogated by the Avengers? Check.

Win a battle of wits against the Black Widow? Check.

Scold and guilt trip the star spangled walking piece of propaganda, and implicitly telling him off for his handling of the Bucky situation? Check (not that the captain seemed to take the hint, but hey, hope for the best and prepare for the shitfest had always been more her thing anyway).

Watch Peggy fucking Carter lecture the mighty Avengers as if they were misbehaving toddlers? Check (and a priceless memory that she will have to tell Lesya about as soon as she gets home. Peggy Carter is still a badass woman, dementia or not, but Masha wonders what it would have been like, meeting her in her prime. Then she tries not to, because it hurts to think about how old age is slowly but surely killing the formidable lady who agreed to cover for them.)

Throw Romanova towards Belova AND the Red Room, throwing her past failures in her face in the process? Check.

Avoid any mention of Soldat's link to them? Check.

* * *

All in all, not a bad day, though it'd probably be better if Soldat stays away from the city, or at least their apartment, for while. (And that breaks her heart, because they have just gotten him used to living with them, to having a home, and now they’ll have to tell him to leave. It won't be forever, of course, but she hates the Avengers for it even though their own plans to get them off Soldats’s back had a variant that implied getting on their radar and thus compromising them as a safe recovering location for their brother. It still sucks.)

(Lesya is going to kill her for landing herself in this situation, she just knows it.)

She tries to console herself by remembering that  _ Irina _ is going to go with the Avengers whether they like it or not, and that the retired ballet teacher is actually older than Romanova, was one of the first Widows and lived through the aftermath of the redhead’s desertion, and the purges and witch-hunts that followed as the higher ups did their best to root out any discontent, mostly by killing anyone who so much as thought about protesting an order and upping the level of brainwashing on the rest, and is deliberately going to make the situation as uncomfortable for the redhead as she can. And that this is the perfect opportunity to take that vacation they had been planning on. To take their brother across the States, slowly getting him used to the world again.

(It doesn’t work.)


	9. I have not winced nor cried aloud.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ll get through this, Masha swears. It will be hard, it will hurt, but they will get through this, and woe befalls anyone who stands in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 9! I tried to adress some of the issues people pointed out last chapter, notably the Avengers reaction to Peggy Carter. Hope it clears up some confusion!  
> Fair warning: there will be FEELS in this chapter.  
> All the russian in this chapter is courtesy of Google Translate, and as such is not to be trusted to be an exact translation. If someone who speaks russian is willing to correct it, I would love it!  
> Comments are more than welcome, as is constructive criticism. English is not my first language (going by learning order, it's actually my fourth, though going by fluency it's my second) so don't hesitate to point out any mistakes !

As predicted, Lesya is less than impressed when Masha reports on her stay at Avengers Tower on her nightly phone call.

“What possessed you to get into a freaking sassfight with Romanova, Masha?! Have you lost your mind? You are so lucky Katya got Director Carter and Irina there so fast, and even luckier that she actually managed to make them cower in front of her anger!”

Masha winces. In retrospect, she _had_ been rather lucky that Carter had basically helped the Stark’s butler Jarvis raise the boy who would grow up to become Ironman, and that said man still had an instinctive reaction to _that_ particular tone of voice coming from his godmother. Rogers would not have been so easily brought to heel, but the shock factor had probably helped, as the woman was supposed to be confined in a retirement home and slowly losing her mind. Barton had been there mostly as an observer anyway, and had been happy enough staying out of the argument even before Carter's interruption.

Romanova's reaction, now that had been a surprise. Masha had not expected her to fold like she had, though she certainly isn't complaining about it. It does make her wonder, though, what exactly it had been that had hit the spy so hard. Being confronted with the consequences of her inaction? The use of her Russian name? Masha doesn’t know, and she _hates_ not knowing something.

In the background, she can hear Soldat’s grumbling while Ana, the young girl they are visiting, is apparently developing some sort of hero worship of Masha, much to her amusement (and her girlfriend’s dismay). He has not taken the news well, and it's all Lesya can do to convince him that running back to New York now would only cause them more problems. He knows it would, but that does not mean he has to like it.

* * *

 She checked the flat for bugs as soon as she arrived back, activated one of Varya’s gadget to fry anything trying to listen in, and turned the white noise generator on. Their conversation is absolutely safe, and that’s why she tells her lover to give Soldat the phone.

She’s sitting on the ground next to her bed, leaning against the wall, door closed. It’s been a long day, and she’s exhausted, and she doesn’t want Katya to hear the conversation (she spoke to Soldat earlier, reassured him that she was okay and safe and Masha had been so badass brother, you should have seen her!).

“I’m sorry” she says once she’s heard the door closing behind him, a sign that he isolated himself for this conversation.

“What are you sorry for, Mashenka?” he asks gently, and the pet name only makes her want to cry more.

Soldat has taken to calling her that, adding the endearing suffix to her name whenever he feels as if she’s in emotional turmoil (and she both loves and loathes it, because she’s the one who is supposed to help him, so why is he always the one comforting her?).

“I told you that you had a safe place with us, that our home was your home too, and now it’s compromised because of me…”

“Dourak (idiot)” he scolds her gently. “It’s not your fault, Mashenka. There was always a risk that the Avengers would find out about the Red Room escapees, and we both knew it. This is why I agreed to leave New York for a bit and go visit Ana after Romanova caught sight of you at the school. This is one of the best-case scenarios you and Prizrak planned: they know about the Red Room still being active, Romanova and Rogers are on their tail, Romanova is aware that Belova is in town and both of them are too busy to be looking for me. You did good, little one.”

“But they’ll be watching us now...”

A sigh.

“I know. And I know I can’t return home for now. But it’ll be okay. I’ll stay with Ana and her mother for now, and once school is over for the summer we can all travel together for a while.”

“Road trip?” Masha smiles between the tears that roll down her cheeks.

_Home_ , he said, and it makes her heart want to burst, because it had taken so long to get him to accept that it _was_ his home too, and now...

A small chuckle.

“Yes, you’ll get the road trip you’ve been begging for, Mashenka. But make sure to chose decent music, you hear me?”

“Hey, driver chooses the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole” She retorts, wiping away the tears. “Unless you want Lesya to drive…”

He cringes. Lesya does have her licence, took the test before Masha even, but… Well, let's just her say that her driving would not look out of place in a war zone. Or behind the wheel of an ambulance or that of a New York cab.

“Let’s keep the wheel between you and I” He says dryly. “In everyone’s interest.”

“Depends.” Masha smirks.

“On?”  
“On if we decide to hit some HYDRA bases along the way.”

A groan. “In that case, yes, we might want Lesya to drive. But we talked about this, Mashenka. No poking the big bad hydra in the eye.”

“They started it” she snorts. “Besides, Varya sent over some new stuff from these wonder twins of her, and Katya’s been dying to try them. And the legend _does_ say that the best way to kill a hydra is with copious amounts of fire.”

“You just want to be driving away from a huge explosion” he scolds her, but she can hear the smile in his voice. “And Katya is enough of a firecracker without military-grade explosives.”

“Oh they’re not military grade. They are TRINIAN-grade, much higher quality.” She laughs. “So, that’s a no on blowing the reptile infestation out of the US, then?”

He chuckles again. “That’s a maybe. Only if the Old Guardians agree and if we can blame it on someone else. No use catching the Avengers’ attention again when we just managed to misdirect them again.”

“Yay” she beams, before turning quiet again. “Brat?” she asks.

“Sestra?” And it’s so rare for him to use that particular term, because part of him remembers his own sisters, and another is afraid to lose them like he lost them. (And for all that all the escapees he helped consider him a big brother, he is closest to Masha and Lesya and Katya, and they are the ones he thinks of first now when he thinks _sisters_. And it hurts, because he had blood sisters once, and it feels like he’s replacing them, but at the same time, from what he remembers of them, they would not have begrudged him this. Would probably have adopted the little hellions right into the family, to be honest, and it’s a small comfort.)

She swallows a sob. “Ya budu skuchat’ po tebe [I’m going to miss you]”

A breathe.

“ Ya budu skuchat’ po tebe tozhe, sestra [I’m going to miss you too, sestra] “

“ Vy sobirayetes’ byt’ v poryadke ? Chestnyy otvet, pozhaluysta. [Are you going to be alright? Honest answer, please.]”

“Ya ne znayu.[I don’t know]” he says, and that’s more than she expected. He’s usually so careful to keep his problems to himself. “ Ya poprobuyu. [I’ll try]”

That’s all he can do, and they both know it. It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, though, and she bites back the tears that threaten to fall.

“ Ya ozhidayu telefonnye zvonki. [I expect phone calls]” she says instead. “Po krayney mere dva raza v nedelyu. Bol’she, yesli vam nuzhno. Ne stesnyaytes’ pozvonit mne, kogda-libo. Dazhe yesli eto seredina nochi. Ya zdes’ dlya tebya, brat, ne zabyvayte, chto. I yesli vam nuzhno, chtoby vernut’sya domoy, vernut’sya domoy. Yesli vam nuzhno, chtoby ya prishel k vam, prosto sprosite. Ne dumayte o Mstitelyami, ili Rogers, ili HYDRA ili lyubogo iz etikhmudakov. My mozhem imet’ delo s nimi [At least twice a week. More if you need to. Don’t hesitate to call me, ever. Even if it’s the middle of the night. I’m here for you, brother, don’t forget that. And if you need to come home, come home. If you need me to come to you, just ask. Don’t think about the Avengers, or Rogers, or HYDRA or any of these assholes. We can deal with them.]”

Because even if all of the trainees who escaped the Red Room thanks to Soldat consider him family, brother, saviour, protector, it’s Masha who made him swear to remember her and to find her once he got out. It’s Masha he sought out when he got free. It’s Masha and Lesya and Katya who have been working tirelessly to bring him back from the darkness HYDRA plunged him into. It’s them who opened their home to him, who have been with him through the nightmares and panic attacks and memories of friends long dead, some at his hands, some not.

It’s Masha who stays up countless nights when sleep evades him, who just sits next to him in silence, a quiet reminder that he is not alone, never will be again if she has anything to say about it.

It’s him who holds her in his arms when the nightmares get to her, when she wakes with a silent cry, alone in her bed because Lesya has the night shift. It’s him who ruffles her hair when she has a bad day, him who looks at her with proud eyes when she achieves something, him who plays with Katya and help Lesya with her studies.

He’s theirs, in a way they can’t explain, and having to leave him behind _hurts_.

“Zhe k vam, sestra. Yesil vam nuzhno chto-nibud’, vy sprosite menya, ty menya slysshish’?”[Same to you, sestra. You need anything, you ask, you hear me?]

She nods, both silently promising.

They’ll get through this, Masha swears. It will be hard, it will hurt, but they will get through this, and woe befalls anyone who stands in their way.

* * *

(Woe is a twenty year old girl with sharp words and sharper knives. Woe is a twenty-two years old who is learning how to heal but _knows_ how to hurt and kill. Woe is a nine-year old child relearning her childhood who knows how to make a bomb out of milk and potatoes. Woe is a Soldat without a name, relearning to be human but who never forgot how to protect. Woe is dozens and dozens of girls, women young and old, who escaped hell on earth and are able to unleash it on those who wrong them.)

(They’ll get through this.)

  



	10. Looms but the Horror of the shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really late the next days, on her way back from work (late night shift are the worst, but the pay makes up for it), Masha’s attention is caught by the red vigilante waiting for her on one of the fire escape she usually uses when she feels like taking the aerial route (Parkour is one of the best feelings in the world, in Masha’s opinion).
> 
> “Daredevil” she greets formally, mentally bemoaning the fact that yet another superhero seems to be interested in her. “Why are you here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 10! Hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Warnings: mention of death of underage original characters

The extraction of the trainees goes off without a hitch. Masha receives a text telling her that Olga, one of the oldest of the Old Guardians, now has twelve girls in her care and is arranging foster families for them once they have been through the mandatory psychological care program that they’ve instituted. This brings the number of trainees having escaped from the Red Room since 1951 (65 years) up to 854. Barely more than a tenth of the 7280 girls who have been taken to one of the Red Rooms four main training facilities in the last 65 years (28 girls each year for each facilities. Less than half make it more than a year, less than a tenth make it through the second injection and only a select few achieve Widow status each decade, and even they don’t usually last long). Along with the ten former Widows, that puts their number to 864. So many and so few at the same time. For every girl they break out, another eight or nine die or are left wishing they had.

Twelve, this time. Twelve out of twenty-eight. Sixteen girls they failed. Sixteen they arrived too late to save.

Masha throws up when she hears that the group they sent stumbled over the room where the bastards had kept the bodies. Two of them had still been in their morgue. They had been four and six, and their deaths had been neither quick nor painless.

Prizrak took the bodies with her and made sure to give them a proper burial.

* * *

 Masha throws up, and then she steels herself and goes down to the old gym and punches her frustration and disgust out on the ancient punching bag that had probably been there before the war and would most likely outlive all of them.

She spends her evenings there, when Lesya has the night shift and Katya is at her gymnastic class or sleeping over at a (thoroughly screened) friend . The gym is old, usually empty, and no one bothers here there. It’s not as good as sparring against Soldat, but it helps.

Sometimes, the blind man comes. Matt Murdock, a lawyer who turned down the big law companies to focus on the little people and has been winning case after case that many had deemed hopeless to start with. They don’t talk much, or at all, but sometimes he points to the mats or the ring and she gets to let loose against an opponent that hits back and it’s glorious. She’s hesitant, at first, but when it turns out that, blindness or not, he’s more than a decent fighter, she stops holding back and loses herself in the rhythm of the fight.

Lesya is not happy when she comes home with bruises that night, but even she has to admit that Masha has been easier to live with since she found herself a sparring partner.

They’re still getting used to Soldat’s absence, and it takes some adjusting. They fight, sometime, always out of Katya’s sight and hearing, because Masha is restless and wants to be _doing_ something while Lesya is of the opinion that the only thing they can do at the moment is _wait_.

They agree to disagree, and their relationship comes out strengthened, but it’s not something either of them likes to think about.

* * *

It’s been nearly a month since her confrontation with the Avengers, and they still haven’t made a move on the Red Room. Varya says that the organisation has gone to the ground following the latest trainees abduction (the team sent had to physically remove the kids from the building, and they had not been kind to the bastards they had found inside. Unlike Masha’s escape, where the trainees had had inside help and had gotten out themselves, these girls had not been expecting a rescue and their handlers had ordered them to fight against the invaders. It had only been luck that none of them had been indoctrinated enough yet to get themselves killed against older, more experienced women who had gone through the same training) and it was harder than expected to get a lock on their position, even for Stark and his seemingly all-knowing AI.

Nevertheless, Masha is less than impressed, and it’s only Varya’s assurance that the Avengers _are_ looking that stops her from barging into the tower and yell at them (or, at least, call Peggy Carter and have her deal with the super-zeroes again). Especially since she  _knows_ Romanova is still tailing her more often than not, even if she can never spot her.

There have been no sightings of Belova in the last few days, and it puts them on edge, though they don’t show it.

(They know better. Such tells have been trained out of them years ago.)

* * *

But it’s Lesya birthday, and they decide to go to her favourite italian restaurant, the one they rarely go to because even if the food is to die for, so are the prices. But it’s her birthday, and Masha has been working a few more shifts at the bakery lately, and they decide to splurge a bit. Soldat called them earlier, to wish her a happy birthday and to tell her that her present would be arriving soon.

The food is delicious, the company delightful, and Masha finds herself relaxing for the first time in weeks. Katya is babbling enthusiastically about what she and her friend Mari have been up to (they are little hellions, the both of them, they have the innocent look perfected to an T, and their puppy eyes are usually enough to get them out of any trouble. The bullies in their school have learned their lesson well, and stay away from the lower years now) and Lesya is radiant. She’s nearly done with her nursing degree now, and the hospital has promised her a job once she graduates. Her mentor, Claire, has been quite vocal in her appreciation of ‘finally getting a colleague with common sense’, much to everyone’s amusement.

Her hair is still dark blue, though she’s added a few electric blue streaks in it the day before. Masha herself has been considering it for a while, but she’s still not entirely sure. She’s happy with her brown locks for the moment, and Lesya just loves to rake her fingers through them, so she sees no reason to change them. Her studies are going well too, she only needs another year before she gets her diploma. She already has a paid internship secured with one of the youth shelters in Hell’s kitchen, and she can’t wait to start. She’s met with Peggy Carter a few more times as she works on her dissertation on brainwashed child soldiers with her, finally manages to introduce her to Lesya who still goes starry eyed when someone mentions it. (Rogers tries to have Masha removed from the access list, but the aged british Lady does not tolerat it and gives the captain a thorough tongue-lashing. Masha kind of wishes she could have been a fly on the wall for that particular conversation.)

It’s late by the time they get home, but they don’t really care. It’s the best night they’ve had in a long time, ever since Soldat left.

That should have been her first clue that things would go FUBAR soon.

* * *

Really late the next days, on her way back from work (late night shift are the _worst_ , but the pay makes up for it), Masha’s attention is caught by the red vigilante waiting for her on one of the fire escape she usually uses when she feels like taking the aerial route (Parkour is one of the best feelings in the world, in Masha’s opinion).

“Daredevil” she greets formally, mentally bemoaning the fact that yet another superhero seems to be interested in her. “Why are you here?”

The violent vigilante (she likes his style, actually, the bastards he goes after more than deserve the beating they get) is quiet, then speaks up.

“You’re being followed” he tells her, voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me something I don’t know” Masha mutters. “I bloody well know that Romanova is on my tail despite having been told off about it _repeatedly_.”

“It’s not one of the Avengers” Daredevil interjects before she can get started on her rant. “Another woman. But she moves the same as the Black Widow. Not one of the older ones who keep an eye on the area either. She was following you yesterday, when you went to the restaurant. She’s armed.”

_Belova_ , Masha thinks faintly. Belova was following them yesterday and none of them sensed that they were being watched. _Is the skills difference that big?_ , she wonders with a hint of fear. _Is this a glance of the chasm that separates us from the true Widows?_

“Why tell me?” she asks him.

“She hasn’t done anything yet, so I can’t take her out” the masked man explains shortly. “But you and your people have been in Hell’s Kitchen long enough for me to know that you’re not going out of your way to make trouble. You and the other girl deal with any idiots stupid enough to attack you, and your old ones have been a boon in keeping the children of Hell’s Kitchen safe. I don’t know who that woman is, but she is a threat to the people who live here, and you deserve the heads up.”

Masha takes a breathe, then lets out a wave of swears in fourteen different languages and eight dialects.

“I take it she’s bad news?” Daredevil deadpans.

“More than you know, Red” she growls. “She’s a Black Widow. Russian spy and assassin, trained by the one who made Romanoff and created to deal with her after she upped and left. You know enough about me and my people to know that her being here is not good.”

She takes another breath, takes her phone out.

“Can I ask you to keep an eye on Leslie and Katie?” She asks him as she scrolls through her contacts. “The only person I know who can deal with that bitch is the other Widow, and I don’t exactly know how to contact her when she’s not stalking me.”

“Your new stalker was focusing on you” Daredevil points out, and Masha winces. Yeah, should have guessed that since she is the one who was in contact with the Avengers. Of course that would catch Belova’s attention.

Well, if the Queen Bitch has decided to focus on her, it means that she might be able to lead her away from the others. Finally finding the number she was looking for, she sends off a quick text.

“Thanks for the warning, Red. Word of advice, stay away from her if you can. Heaven’s know that’s what I’m going to try to do. She’s so far out of my league it’s not even funny”

She hadn’t even known someone was watching them yesterday. Did not even have the slightest inkling of it, and that more than anything else scares her. Because Masha is paranoid, knows it, but also knows that it’s not really paranoia when they’re actually out to get you, and she’s always careful, always on edge ever since they escaped, but every time she lets her guard down ever so slightly, usually because she is _happy_ , a feeling so foreign once upon a time that she will probably never get used to it, it comes back to bite her in the ass. And Belova is not someone she can underestimate, not someone she has even a chance of taking on. Neither does Lesya, even with her serum-enhanced strength and reflexes, and neither do the old guardians though they probably stand a better chance than the rest of them. Once, maybe, when they were in their prime, but Belova has been in training all her life, has done mission upon mission for the glory of Mother Russia and HYDRA, and has probably been through other procedures to make her better, faster, stronger than Romanova.

There is _no way_ Masha is going to go against her if she can avoid it.  _No fucking way_.

She is shaking, Masha notices. This is not like going head to head with the Avengers, because that had been verbal, and for all she had railed against the morality of their actions, she knows they would not have hurt her. But Belova? Belova does not know the concept of mercy, of pity. Belova will see the traitors, and do what she is programmed to do. Eliminate them.

And Masha is terrified of her, because she remembers her, remembers seeing her in the complex in Siberia where she grew up, remembers her killing Dana for raising her voice against the trainers that day. Remembers Belova walking up to the fifteen-years old and breaking her neck without looking at her. Remembers, all of thirteen, having to stay absolutely still against the wall of the training room, watching as Dana’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground. All the while Belova had gone on talking, giving the lesson she had been recalled to this base to give, as if Dana had been nothing more than an ant, barely an annoyance, not even worth registering on her radar.

And Masha remembers thinking _This is what they want me to become_ . And then _I don’t want to become like her._ Remembers meeting Lesya’s gaze from across the room, and the silent understanding passing between them. _We need to get out. Before they turn us into her._

  
  



	11. How charged with punishments the scroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Room had taught its trainees all about its traitors, but in making sure that they knew about them, they had also, unknowingly, made them into bigger than life figures for the young girls. As such, they had put women like Prizrak and Romanova on very high pedestals. And once they started thinking by themselves and wanting to get out of the Red Room, that turned into idolisation of the ones that had managed to do that. Realizing that one of their hero had never so much as cared to find out if others were going through the same thing? That had broken part of them.
> 
> There's a reason you should never meet your heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I know it's been a little longer than usual, but here's chapter 11! As usual don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of it, or to point out any grammar/spelling mistakes you notice.  
> (Seriously, I would love to know what you think of this story. Comments are always appreciated!)  
> And if you want to talk more about this story, just drop by on my tumblr http://stereden.tumblr.com/ !
> 
> Warnings: Mention of off-screen transphobia (non-explicit, non-graphic)

She walks past the vigilante, not towards her apartment (too far, especially if Belova is on her tail), but towards Irina’s place. Her phone rings, and it’s Soldat’s ringtone and it’s the only reason she takes the call when every inch of her is protesting turning her attention towards anything other than her surroundings and the personnification of her nightmares that has set her sight on her.

“Brother” she greets softly, all too aware of the fact that Daredevil is most probably keeping an eye on her from a distance and has proven to have extremely sharp hearing (but also a great deal of respect for ‘his people’, the people of Hell’s kitchen, and she’s kind of flattered to be on the list).

Soldat is breathing hard in the phone, and russian words are tumbling out of him. None of it makes sense, and Masha bites back tears because of course. This night is just going from bad to worse, and her brother is in the throes of a panic attack when she just managed to push back her own in order to at least get to Irina’s without throwing up. 

She whispers soothing nonsense, keeps her voice calm and gentle even when part of her wants to cry out and call for help because  _ Belova _ is after her and she’s scared, she’s fucking scared but she can’t show it. Because her brother needs her to be strong, and he will always be her first priority when it’s between his mental well-being and hers.

He calms down somewhat, gets his breathing under control and his words start making sense again.

“Thank you” he croaks out, voice hoarse.

“Always, brother, you know that” she replies softly. “Nightmare?”

A grunt. “Bad one” he says shortly. “You and the others alright?”

Part of her wants to tell him, to ask him to come back because she’s scared, and vulnerable, and she knows he can take on Belova and win, and even if he didn’t she would still feel much safer if he was here.

But the fact that he asks about their wellbeing immediately after mentioning a nightmare tells her that they featured in it, and she knows just how terrified he is of losing them. He will come, she knows, she only has to ask, but it will put him in danger, both from the Red Room and Hydra and from the Avengers. And he is getting better, she knows he is, but he is still nowhere close to being ready for that.

“We’re good” she tells him instead. “Went to the restaurant the other day, the really nice one that does this amazing chocolate cake. Of course Katie tried to steal some of mine, but as much as I love the brat there was no way I was going to share. That cake is positively  _ sinful _ .”

It’s not even a lie. They did go to the restaurant, and the cake  _ is _ definitely the best one she’s ever tasted, and Katya _did_ try to steal hers, and they  _ are _ fine, to a degree. Physically and mentally, Lesya and Katya are doing well. Masha’s the only one who is a mess at the moment (because she’s the only one who  _ knows _ ) and there is no way she’ll let him know about that until the problem is well behind them. She’s already working on a potential solution, much as she hates the idea of working with the Black Widow.

She lets herself into Irina’s place with her copy of the key, finds the older woman waiting for her in the hall. A head tilt towards the kitchen and the frown on her face is enough to let her know that her  _ guest _ has already arrived, and that the Old Guardian is not happy about it.

“I need to hang up, brother” she says softly. “I’m nearly home and I don’t want to wake the others. I’ll call you again tomorrow night, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re okay, little one?” He is worried, she can hear it in his voice, and she  _ hates _ lying to him.

“Just tired” she forces a smile ( _and she is, but not just physically_ ). “I’ll be alright once I get some sleep. You should do the same, brother”

A laugh. “You’re such a mother-hen” he says fondly. “Sleep well, little one”

“You too!”

She hangs up, turns toward the severe russian.

“He will not thank you for lying to him once this is over” the former dance teacher warns her as she leads her to the kitchen.

“And I’ll take my lecture like a good girl once he can’t get himself in trouble” she retorts. 

* * *

 

“Romanova” she greets the redhead coldly, before going straight to the pot of coffee and serving herself a huge mug. She drains her first cup in one gulp, then makes another before finally facing her guest. She would prefer Vodka, or something equally strong - it's been _that kind_ of night, and it's only going to get _worse_ , and honestly she needs it if she's going to deal with _Romanova_ \- but she needs her wits on her now, no matter how much she would like to be black-out drunk right now. 

“Jones” comes the equally icy greeting. “I thought you had made it clear that you did not want to associate with me in any way?” A raised eyebrow.

Masha snorts. “Didn’t stop you from following me around these past few weeks, did it? Ironically, the one night I would have actually appreciated that is the one night you decided to finally stop.” She takes a sip of coffee.

“Is there a reason you called me in the middle of the night other than to annoy me or throw my failures in my face?” the Black Widow asks.

“Option number two” Masha replies without missing a beat. “ _ Belova _ ” she spites.

Romanova tenses. “ I have been trying to find her, without success” she admits through gritted teeth.

“Well then I have good news for you” the younger one says with false cheer. “She’s been following me since yesterday at least”

The spy focuses on her, and so does Irina.

“What?”

“ _And you didn’t tell us?_ ” Irina snarls in russian.

“Excuse me for only learning about it twenty minutes ago” Masha snarls back viciously. “I didn’t even know we had been followed at the restaurant the other night until _Daredevil_ told me !”

Irina freezes. “You did not sense her?”

“Nothing. And I’m usually able to feel even Romanova when she’s on my trail. Not enough to pinpoint her, admittedly, but enough to know that I’m being followed and that it’s probably her. And you know how paranoid I am, Irina.”

The older woman takes a deep breathe, and grabs her phone.

“I’m waking the rest of the старый опекуны (staryy opekuny: old guardians). Not up to discussion, Martha” she snaps. “If she knows where you live, the others might be in danger too.”

“According to Daredevil, she’s focused on me. Probably caught sight of me when the Avengers took me in for questioning. I don’t think she knows about the others, but I asked him to keep an eye on them for me, though he shadowed me until I got here.”

“At least you had the sense to ask for help” Irina grumbles, sending text message after text message. “Olga is going to be staying with them for the time being. I take it you want to play bait?”

_This is a stupid idea_  goes unspoken, but not unheard.

Masha nods, turning to Romanova.

“That’s where you come in” She tells her. “Loathe as I am to admit it, I’m not stupid enough to even think I have a chance against her. She’s you, but with forty more years in the Red Room and HYDRA. I was a sixteen years old trainee when I escaped, and I don’t even have the second part of the serum going for me. Odds are, she recognized my training and will want to interrogate me. Follow me, and you’ll find her. Fuck I can’t believe I’m explicitly asking you to put your nose in our business” she mutters, disgusted at herself.

“How sure are you that Daredevil is telling the truth?”Romanova asks. “Why would he even tell you?”

It’s Irina’s turn to snort. “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen may use methods many frown at, but he’s loyal to his people, to the people of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Plus, he likes us” Masha shrugs. “Says the Old Guardians keep an eye on the kids, and he likes that.”

“Hu” Irina mutters. “Remind me to leave him some pastries once this mess is over.”

“Will do.” Masha nods. “So, Romanova, are you in or not?”

Much as she hates the idea of asking her for help, Masha dearly hopes that she’ll agree. For all that she resents the redhead for never going after the Red Room, she  _ is _ currently the only one with any chance of taking the bitch out.

The Avenger inclines her head. “She is my responsibility, as you have reminded me” She says, but her voice is neither angry, nor resentful. If anything, there’s… regret in it, and Masha is not going to think about that. She's _ not. _ It’s much easier to be angry at the Widow than to admit that she is just human, and as such is fallible.

* * *

 

The Red Room had taught its trainees all about its traitors, but in making sure that they knew about them, they had also, unknowingly, made them into bigger than life figures for the young girls. As such, they had put women like Prizrak and Romanova on very high pedestals. And once they started thinking by themselves and wanting to get  _ out _ of the Red Room, that turned into idolisation of the ones that had managed to do that. Realizing that one of their hero had never so much as cared to find out if others were going through the same thing? That had broken part of them.

There's a reason you should never meet your heroes.

* * *

“Good” She says briskly. “Then we need to plan”

Romanova nods, and Irina starts towards the door.

“I’ll let the two of you deal with that” She speaks up. “I need to rally the others. If Belova was able to slip under our radar when we were actively trying to keep an eye on her, it might mean that some of us were spotted. We don’t know if she already alerted her superiors about finding some of the missing trainees, but if so we need to be ready for an influx of HYDRA and Red Room scum lurking around.”

“I don’t think she will tell them just yet” Masha muses, thoughtful. “She’ll want to have proof, and more information before she contacts them.”

“Which means that she’ll want to capture you more than anything” Romanova points out wryly.

“Tell me something I don’t know” the youngest in the room snarks, raking her fingers in her brown curls. Her brother was going to kill her. “Irina. Don’t tell him. He has enough to worry about at the moment.”

The older woman stiffens.

“On your head be it” She answers sharply, turning on her heels and leaving the room.

Romanova is looking at her weirdly.

“Your ‘brother’?” She asks. “He does not appear in your ‘backstory’, and the Red Room only takes girls.”

Masha breathes out slowly, reminding herself that she  _ needs _ the woman, cannot hope to take down Belova without her, and that she would not be able to strangle Romanova anyway.

Oh she had known that the spy would catch that allusion, has an answer planned (a fully truthful one at that) but having her nose around Soldat is the last thing she needs, wound up as she is.

“Not everyone’s gender coincides with the body they are born with, Romanova” Masha bites out. “One of the children who escaped with me is in that situation, and is days away from the surgery that will allow him to have a body that fits him. He calls me often, as I am studying psychology and he finds it easier to talk to me than to his therapist. We are close, not that it is any of your business.”

* * *

It’s not a lie, which means that there are no tells for Romanova to tell that she is hiding something. The child they had called ‘Snezhana’ had always felt wrong in a female body, and once out of the clutches of the Red Room, had found that there was a term for that condition, and things that could be done to help. He goes by Jacob now, and is much happier for it. He has a proper family now, one that is supportive of his choice and encourage him.

(It’s his second foster family, and no one talks about what happened with the first one. Masha and Lesya and Prizrak have made sure that they would never again be able to hurt anyone else, even if it is only through words rather than blows. No one gets to hurt their people. Especially not the ones who were supposed to protect and love and help them. The prospective foster families were screened a lot more thoroughly after that, and some of the older escapees have decided to open their own homes rather than risk something like this happening again.) 

And Jacob remains very close to his fellow trainees, especially to Masha and Lesya who have somehow become the den mothers for these kids by virtue of being the oldests of their group, and the ones who had orchestrated their escape in the first place. Mahsa’s decision to study psychology had also somehow made her the confident of most of their group, and it is not rare for her to get calls at odds hours from former trainees having a panic attack.

Jacob is one of the most frequent callers, though thankfully his life is better now and he mostly calls her to babble about his foster family and the adorable toddler that joined them a few weeks ago. 

(Jacob is the one who suggests using his story as a diversion, one night, shortly after the Avengers tried to interrogate her. Masha refuses at first, because it's _ none of the Avengers business, it's Jacob's life and I won't betray your privacy like that, Jake _ but he convinces her he truly means it, he's really okay with it and  _ shut up and just do as I say for once Masha, let the rest of us give you a hand from time to time, the world is too heavy for you to try and play Atlas. _ )

(Jacob is such a little shit. She's going to dye his eyebrows  _ green _ for this.)

(Or not. The brat would _ like _ it and his foster mom would  _ kill  _ her, or at least stop feeding her when she comes over, and her food is too good to endanger for the sake of vengeance.)

* * *

The redhead has the decency to look slightly ashamed at her unsubtle attempt of information gathering.

“Now” Masha goes on. “About Belova…”

* * *

When morning comes, the plan is ironed out, neither of them have slept a wink and Masha has eight furious voice mails from Lesya, and a ninth from Katya who is begging her to be cautious and careful and safe, which actually makes her wince more than her girlfriends threats.

Now the only thing left to do is wait.

 


	12. For my unconquerable soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masha rasps out a laugh. “Traitors? I don’t know any traitors, just some folks that were smart enough to get out before they became like you.”
> 
> It is so very satisfying, to watch the woman lose her cool, knowing that she has been trained to be better than that, to never show any real emotion. But Masha is good at getting under people’s skin, at antagonizing them until they react, ever so slightly, and she considers it a win even when the gun strikes her face again.
> 
> “I’ve had enough of your cheek, Masha Olegnova” the russian growls. “Where are the other trainees that left the Red Room? And where is Soldat?”

They don’t have to wait long. Masha goes through her usual routine the next day, attending her classes and going to work, and when she leaves the bakery at midnight she can feel at least two different pairs of eyes on her. One is Widow, the other probably Daredevil even if she told the vigilante not to get involved. 

Despite knowing that he doesn’t have much of a chance against Belova, it’s… comforting to know that he’s watching out for her. 

She certainly trusts him more than the former SHIELD agent when it comes to having her back. Oh she doesn't doubt that the spy will be ready to intervene when the other Russian spyssassin takes the bait, but Masha does not know in which state she'll be before Romanova steps in, and she would rather trust Daredevil to get her out of the fight than trust Romanova not to involve her in their battle.

It’s not as good as having Soldat watching her back, but she made her choice and will stand by it.

(Soldat is going to have her head for this. This might set his recovery back months. But Belova is a threat, to the escapees and to Soldat, and Masha will do anything to protect her people.)

(Soldat can yell at her all he wants once this mess is over, can wake up from nightmares and panic attacks, as long as it means he’s alive and safe to do it.)

She is halfway between work and home when she passes by a deserted ware house and feels herself being grabbed by the arm. Instincts take over, and she tries to throw whoever is attacking her over her shoulder, but they are much stronger than her and Masha is the one who ends up on the ground, an iron-toed boot against her throat and a gun to her head. She hits the ground, hard, and her right arm collides with the sharp corner of one of the boxes that had been left when the warehouse became disaffected. It's dark, the only light coming from a broken window two floors up, but it's enough for her to get a look at her surroundings. The warehouse is huge, open spaced with metallic stairs leading to the gallery above the ground floor. The broken window leads to the fire escape, and Masha is quick to memorise its position. Then Belova speaks, and she focuses on her.

“Well well” The blond woman holding her at gunpoint drawls in russian. “Looks like I caught myself a little  _ rat _ .”

Despite knowing that she has been made days ago, Masha weakly tries to wriggle away.

“Who are you?” She cries out in English despite the foot on her windpipe. “What do you want with me?”

Her assaillant tut-tuts.

“No use lying  _ Mashenka _ ” she says condescendingly, causing the young woman to stop struggling in order to properly glare at her. “We both know better than that, little rat. You are a filthy little traitor, and you are going to tell me everything I want to know.”

“Fuck off, Belova” the psychology student spits out. “I have nothing to say to you.”

The older woman presses her foot harder against her throat, and Masha winces.

“Now now, no need for profanities little one.” She scolds. “It looks like I’ll have to teach you a lesson again, about the proper respect for one’s elder.”

“Respect is earned, Belova, and while I certainly have a healthy appreciation for your skills, I have absolutely no respect for you as a person.” Her mouth would get her killed one day, Soldat had bemoaned more than once. “Willingly remaining a bitch for the Red Room and HYDRA? That’s a shitty life choice if there ever was one, and I for one wasn’t willing to steep that low. Better a free rat than a leashed bitch.”

That earns her a violent gunslap, and she feels her nose break with a sickening crack.

“You will change your tone once your trainers are through with you” Belova warns her. “Now, we can do this the hard way or the harder way. Which means you either tell me about the whereabouts of the other traitors or I will extract it from you. Your choice.”

Masha rasps out a laugh. “Traitors? I don’t know any traitors, just some folks that were smart enough to get out before they became like you.”

It is so very satisfying, to watch the woman lose her cool, knowing that she has been trained to be better than that, to never show any real emotion. But Masha is  _ good _ at getting under people’s skin, at antagonizing them until they react, ever so slightly, and she considers it a win even when the gun strikes her face again.

“I’ve had enough of your cheek, Masha Olegnova” the russian growls. “Where are the other trainees that left the Red Room?  _ And where is Soldat? _ ”

Masha barely manages not to tense at that.

“Soldat?” She asks. “How the fuck would I know? I thought he was one of  _ yours _ .”

It’s not even a lie, and Masha is rightfully proud of her obfuscation skills. She truly does not know  _ exactly _ where her brother is, as he had mentioned that Ana wanted to go for a walk with him today, and she truly  _ did  _ think he was strictly loyal to HYDRA… five years ago. The best lies are the ones which aren’t, after all.

“Don’t lie to me, little rat. I know he was your trainer, and the Asset was always too fond of the trainees. Our sources tracked him to Hell's kitchen before losing him, and you want me to believe you have no idea where he is? I will ask you one last time.  _ Where is Soldat?” _

_ “ _ And I will tell you again:  _ I don't know” _ Masha spits out. “I haven't seen your precious  _ Asset _ since before I got out!”

Also true.  _ Soldat _ , bolshoy brat, brother had been the one to help them escape, the one who stayed with them, who cooked amazing meals but couldn't for the life of him figure out how to fix the washing machine, resulting in a hilarious afternoon waiting for the plumber while flicking soap suds at each other.

Not the  _ Asset _ . Just her brother.

“As for the others” She rasps out, trying to get some air despite the foot crushing her larynx, “Why don’t you look behind you,  _ bitch? _ ”

Romanova’s spinning kick takes the russian assassin by surprise and gets her off Masha.

The young woman wastes no time getting back to her feet and up the first flight of stairs she finds, grabbing Daredevil’s hand as she stumbles. The vigilante is quick to drag her to the gallery, away from the catfight down on the ground floor, close to the fire escape, but they don’t go further than that. 

Masha is not going anywhere until she’s absolutely sure that Belova will not be able to hurt her people again, and Daredevil has apparently appointed himself her guardian angel - guardian devil ?

* * *

 

The fight is… brutal. Vicious. Neither of the two women, the best of what the Red Room has produced, is willing to give it anything but their best. They can’t afford to, because the other is determined to take them out by any means possible.

Masha isn’t sure if Romanova is aiming for capture or death, though she would much prefer the later. But odds were that she would want to interrogate the blonde about the Red Room, HYDRA and possible ties to Bucky Barnes now that she had namedropped Soldat.

Eyes not leaving the fight, she takes her phone out and sends off a text to Irina, another to Lesya, letting them know that the bait was taken and that she was still in one piece.

Mostly. Her nose is still bleeding, and will need to be set before it heals crookedly. The vigilante hands her a pack of tissues, which she takes gratefully.

In retrospect, she really shouldn’t have been surprised when their gallery is suddenly invaded by Irina, Olga, Sasha and a frantic-looking Lesya who makes a beeline for her and hugs her for all she’s worth.

“How” She wails quietly “Do you  _ always _ manage to get yourself into so much trouble, milaya?”

She lets go of her and immediately takes her emergency medical bag out to treat her nose, growling when she sees the shoe-shaped bruise on her neck.

“I’m fi…” Masha starts, then bites back a yelp when her girlfriend violently sets her nose straight without warning.

“If you dare say you’re fine, Masha, I’ll kill you myself” the usually soft spoken nurse student snaps. “Broken nose, your larynx is nearly crushed so  _ stop fucking talking _ , you probably have a concussion, and I don’t think you even noticed that your right arm is so fucking broken that the bone is poking out!”

Masha blinks, then winces when the pain suddenly hits her.  _ How the hell did I miss breaking my arm like that? _ she wonders, shocked. Well, there had been the more immediate threat of Belova, she supposed, and adrenaline, but  _ still. _

Lesya is already hard at work, setting the bone despite Masha poorly-hidden pain and bandaging it as best as she could until she can put a plaster or at least a cast on it. Even with their healing factor, that was going to take time to heal.

Meanwhile, the two old guardians are focusing on the fight below them, ready to jump in and put Belova down like the rabid dog she is. The fighters seem relatively matched for the moment, neither gaining the advantage over the other.

* * *

 

Next to Masha, Daredevil gives a wry snort.

“I understand now why you told me to keep my distances” He tells her. 

She smirks, despite the pain (Lesya is not being gentle, but then she probably deserves it for what she put her girlfriend through these past few months).

“Told you” she answers. “I still can’t believe you noticed her following us when none of us did”

At that, Irina breaks away from the edge for a moment to hand Daredevil a package.

The vigilante looks at her confusedly.

“A thank you for keeping an eye on the trouble-magnet” the former Widow says. “Homemade cinnamon buns and chocolate muffins. Watching over Hell’s Kitchen is hungry work.”

The lone male blinks, but accepts the offering.

“Thank you” he tells her, before answering Masha’s remark. “As you already guessed, my sense are stronger than most people’s. I couldn’t see her stalking you, but I could damn well hear her.” He winces suddenly. “That must have hurt”

Turning her attention back to the fight below them, Masha has to squint to distinguish the fighters.

“First blood for Romanova” Sasha enlightens her, eyes not leaving the combattants. “I think she broke her nose”

Masha feels torn, really, she does, between the loathing at having to approve anything coming from the redhead, and the vicious, gleeful satisfaction of someone rearranging Belova’s face like she had done with hers.

Schadenfreude wins out, in the end, and she lets out a smirk.

“Serves the bitch right.”

Lesya ties the last bandages, then grabs Masha’s intact arm and doesn’t let go. And she lets her, because she knows just how much this has shaken her girlfriend.

“What happens if Romanova loses?” the healer asks bluntly.

“Then we kill Belova ourselves while she is down” Olga answers equally bluntly. “We might not stand a chance against her individually and in top form, but even if she does manage to get rid of Romanova, she’s not going to escape unscathed and I’m pretty sure that between the four of us, we can take her.”

“Five of us” Daredevil corrects. “She hurt my people too.”

Masha would like to protest that she could help too, but... well, she just got her ass kicked, and she's the only non-enhanced woman on the plateform. Odds are, if she tries to join the fight, someone (most probably Lesya) would knock her out for her own good.

Olga’s smile is positively sinful. “Oh, I’m going to like you young man” she cackles. “Yes, the five of us should be enough to deal with her.”

* * *

 

Olga is seventy-nine, but looks forty, with short blond hair cut in a practical bob and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you. She had been an active Red Room operative from 1946 to 1991, escaping their clutch during the chaos of the wall falling. Officially declared KIA, she had found her way to the States and built a new life for herself. She is married now, with children and grandchildren, and she is the record-keeper. One of the few who knows  _ where _ every person having escaped the Red Room is. 

Her speciality is poison, and the knife-fighter knows without looking that there are at least half a dozen darts hidden in her belt.

The early days serum had varying effects. Irina is younger than Olga, ‘only’ seventy-five to Romanova’s sixty-eight, but she looks closer to sixty. The serum she was injected with slowed down her aging process, but not as much as for the poison-user and certainly not as much as for the Avenger. In exchange, though, her reflexes had been augmented, as had her senses. Since she had specialized in information gathering and silent killing, it had helped her avoid witnesses. After the end of the Cold War, she had settled down to become a ballet teacher, opening a studio with her husband, a Vietnam veteran who had lost his first wife and daughter to organized crime and was therefore more than willing to help her in her self-imposed goal of keeping children safe.

Sasha, Prizrak, is much younger, thirty-five only, but the story of her escape had made her a legend amongst the trainees. Her weapon of choice is a gun, and she never leaves her home without at least three different knives on her person.

Soldat has not aged since he was first captured by HYDRA, all these years ago. Neither Masha nor Lesya know if this is due to the version of the serum he was injected with, with the fact that they kept him on ice when he wasn't needed or a combination of various factors.

* * *

 

Her arm hurts. So does her head, and nose, and ribs. But she's lucky, Masha knows. It could have been much worse. She shudders as she remembers how Belova had killed Dana, years ago, matter of factly, as if the act didn't even register.

“Katya?” She asks her girlfriend softly.

“Staying with Olga's daughter” Lesya answers shortly. “I did not want her anywhere near Belova.”

Masha nods. Bad enough the bitch caught sight of their little sister when she followed them, no need to invite trouble.

“Brother is going to flip out when he hears about this” Lesya mutters angrily. “Do you have any idea how _hard_ it was to convince him not to come when the Avengers interrogated you?”

The younger of the two winces.

“Believe me, I know. He called shortly after Daredevil warned me.” She coughs, her abused throat protesting her use. “Nightmares.”

“Stop talking” Lesya threatens. “He sent me a text this morning asking if you were okay. I fucking hate lying to him, Masha.”

And she understands that, because she hates it too, because enough people lied to him already and they swore to always be truthful to the best of their abilities.

_ Road trip? _ Masha signs instead.

A flat stare. “That's still months away.”

“We'll make sure you get to spend a weekend with him without risking his cover” Olga intervenes. “Varya just sent word that Stark finally got a trace on the red room. Odds are, once Romanova's done with Belova, they'll be busy with the bastards and you can slip away for a while.”

Masha wants to weep in relief. She could really use some time with her brother right now.

* * *

 

Downstairs, the fight is coming to an end. Romanova is winning, not by much, but it's enough and finally, _finally_ Belova is slammed into the ground and does not get up again.

Without concertation, the six observers make their way down to make sure the bitch is out of commission.

Widow looks at them warily, breathing hard, multiple cuts adorning her body.

“What are you going to do with her ?” Olga asks coldly.

“Take her back to the Tower. There are many things I need to ask her.” Romanova answers, equally sharp. “ Since trying to get information from you lot is clearly a lost cause. I don't suppose you would like to elaborate as to why she asked  _ Masha _ about Soldat?”

The dig at Masha's real name does not go unnoticed, and Lesya bristles. But it's Sasha, Prizrak, the ghost and the protector, who answers with a smile.

“Guess she thought those who got away would stick together. Though why she thought we would have any information about his whereabouts is beyond me. The last I saw the guy, he was chasing Captain Starpants on the highway.”

Technically true. For all that she has helped them, Sasha is mostly based in DC, and had more than enough work to do between her job as a news anchor and planning her trips to Mother Russia. She has talked to Soldat on the phone of course, and gets bi weekly updates by either Lesya or Masha, but she mostly stayed out of it.

(All the Old Guardians have seen it, the way he gravitates towards the three of them, the way he relaxes unconsciously amongst them and the younger girls. But they make him wary, the older ones, the ones who completed the training and were given the title of Widow, even when he knows that they mean no harm. And so they stay away, give him the space he need while still keeping an eye on him and the girls.)

Reluctantly, the spy accept the answer. She sends a quick text, then looks back at her audience.

“Any chance I could learn your names ?” She asks, eyebrow raised.

“Depends on if you want a lie or not” Lesya snarks back. “You know Irina's, and Masha's, and that's already too fucking much in my opinion.”

“Calm down, young one” Olga chastises her. “There is no use in fighting. I am one of the Old Guardians” she introduces herself. “And that is all you need to know about me. Keep an eye on Belova. She's a slippery one. Unless a prison cell is good enough to hold  _ you _ , it won't hold  _ her _ . And we would be very,  _ very _ annoyed should she get away and report to her masters.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning” Prizrak corrects. “You might be untouchable by all but Belova, but most of our charges aren't. We promised them a better, safer life. I refuse to jeopardise their lives because you couldn't keep the head bitch in check. If you can't guarantee that, I would much rather kill her right now.”

Romanova bristles.

“I'll watch her myself.”

“Good. We're leaving.”

And she turns around, the others following her. Even Daredevil, still holding his bag of pastries, leaves with them without a backward glance.

* * *

 

Irina leads the way back to her house, which had become their headquarters for this operation (Romanova had tried to leave bugs to spy on them. They had been destroyed with vicious glee.). Inviting them in, she turns to the Vigilante. 

“Thank you very much for keeping an eye on Masha and the girls for us. We're in your debt. If you ever need anything, just ask and we'll do our best to help.”

He nods, and leaves. Irina walks into her home, closing the door behind her and making sure to lock it.

The others are gathered in her living room, Masha lying on a towel covered couch as Lesya takes a closer look at her injuries.

“How is her arm?” Irina asks, going for the liquor cabinet.

The nurse in training scowls.

“Open break. I've set the bone, and did my best to disinfect the wound, but she'll need a cast as soon as we get home. It should heal well, but it will definitely take a few weeks, maybe two months. Are you sure it was a good idea to leave Belova alive?”

Sasha laughs.

“What makes you think we did?” She smiles wickedly. “Or did you believe Olga only came along as mental support?”

The poison expert smirks as she plays with her nail file.

“She'll be dead in forty eight hours. If Romanova is not done interrogating her by then, too bad for her.”

Lesya gapes at them, then throws her head back and  _ laughs _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the wait. I tried (and failed) to do nano this year, and then I found a job (squeeee!) and then it was time for the annual family gatherings and...  
> Yeah. You can thank LittleRoma, because this chapter is dedicated to her ;)  
> Hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought of it!


	13. My head is bloody, but unbowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Masha has to face the music, Soldat is getting more grey hair every day and both of them have to admit that they may be slightly hypocritical when it comes to each other's recklessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter is out ! Let me know what you think of it!  
> Some feels ahead, fair warning.

Masha looks at the phone as if it is a dangerous weapon, ready to blow up in her face. She's been putting that particular phone call off for hours, ever since Lesya cleared her for talking after examining her throat again. Her voice is still hoarse, but the pointed look her girlfriend had thrown at her when she handed her her phone had made it clear that she would not be able to use that as an excuse.

She rakes her fingers through her hair, before steeling herself and punching in the number she knew by heart.

He picks up at the first ring, despite the fact that it's four in the morning, and she holds back a wince. This was not going to end well.

* * *

It's four in the morning when his phone ring, and Soldat is immediately wide awake. Grabbing it, he glances at the caller ID.  _ Masha _ . He answers immediately.

“Sestra” he greets her as soon as he can hear her breathing -  _ harsh, laboured, loud, something happened to her nose, maybe her throat. _

* * *

“Hey” she whispers back, and there are hidden tears in her hoarse voice.

He's out of his bed and grabbing for the clothes he left out before the word is out of her mouth. Something happened. Someone hurt her, and he wants that person's head on a pike.

“What happened?” He bites out, trying not to wake the rest of the household. “Mashenka, what happened? Are you and the girls alright?”

“Lesya and Katya are fine. A bit shaken, and more than slightly angry at me, but they are okay, I swear!” Masha rushes out. “Brother, I promise I will tell you everything, but you need to promise me that you won't rush here, no matter what I tell you. The Avengers are still watching us, and I don't want to put them on your scent.”

That does nothing to calm his fears, on the contrary.

“Mashenka. What. Happened?” He grits out as he grabs around in the dark for his backpack.

“Not until you give me your word” she stands her ground. “I  _ know _ you're not going to like what I'm going to tell you, I  _ know  _ you're going to be angry at me, but I need you to promise me.”

“You're not helping your case, Mashenka” Soldat growls, but he ceases his frantic packing. He's prepared to leave in a second if he needs to, has been since he arrived here, always anticipating that this peace wouldn't last long. “I promise not to do anything stupid in reaction to what you're going to tell me.”

It's not exactly what she wants from him, but she knows that's the best she'll get out of him in this situation.

She takes a deep breath.

“Belova found us but we trapped her and let Widow deal with her” she says very fast, obviously trying to get it over quickly.

His left hand crushes the edge of the bed.

“ _ What!?”  _

He can hear her wince.

“Explain. Now.” He bites out.

And then it all comes rushing out of her, the entire story. Being told by Daredevil that Belova had been following them and that they  _ didn't notice her at all.  _ Not daring to go home that night. Going to Irina and having her call Romanova. Having to work with the redhead despite not trusting her at all. Setting herself up as bait. Being cornered by the personification of her worst nightmares. The fear that had gripped her at that moment, when she had been confronted to the chasm between her level and Belova’s. The sheer terror when the woman had mentioned handing her back to the handlers and the desperation that had gripped her as she thought Romanova would never show up. The panic rushing through her when the blond had asked her about Soldat and the other girls.

Romanova's fight with Belova, finally subduing her. Lesya’s anger and worry, her own injuries, Olga's poisons and Sasha's warning, she tells him  _ everything. _

She has long given up on holding back her tears and is straight out sobbing now, her uninjured hand gripping the phone so hard she's afraid of crushing it.

He wants to kill someone. Preferably Belova, but any HYDRA or Red Room scum would do. Especially the so-called handlers. No one hurts his girls. No one!

She's sobbing silently now, her story over, waiting for him to speak and, he thinks with a pang in his heart, scared of what he'll say.

* * *

 

Soldat is quiet, focusing on his breathing as he tries to remain calm. The last thing she needs is for him to blow up.

But it hurts. It hurts to know that she was in danger and consciously chose to keep him in the dark, chose not to ask for his help, because he's their protector, their big brother, and he's supposed to keep them safe, and yet it seems that every time something happens, they are the one shouldering the worst of it as they do their best to protect _ him _ .

She knew when she volunteered to act as bait that he would strongly disagree with her plan. She knew he would be angry, and hurt, that she had not gone to him for help. He had set himself up as their protector, and she had not let him be there for her when she knew she would be facing danger head on.

It hurts, and he’s angry, but the last thing Soldat wants is to hurt her more than she already is.

The silence lingers, and suddenly she can't take it anymore.

“I'm sorry” she whispers. “Not for not telling you beforehand, because you would have rushed here and gotten spotted by both the Avengers and HYDRA, and I know you wouldn't have given a damn about them, but I couldn't let that happen, but for worrying you.”

“I'm supposed to protect you!” Soldat snaps, anger and hurt in his voice. “I don't care about what happens to me, I'm supposed to protect you and how can I do that if you don't tell me anything?!”

“And I don't give a fuck about what could happen to me as long as you and the others are safe and whole!” Masha snaps back. “I'm sorry for worrying you, but honestly i don't mind getting yelled at if it means you're still free and healthy enough to do so ! You might not care about what happens to you, but guess what? You can't stop us from caring! And if it means that sometimes we have to go against your wishes and keep you in the dark while we deal with something ourselves, well you better get used to it!”

She's panting after her rant, face streaked with tears that she angrily wipes away with her casted arm.

Soldat sighs. He's not going to win this argument, he can feel it. She really is too much like him, sometimes, and it's not always a good thing.

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” He asks, voice softer than before.

“Physically? Yeah, the arm should have healed in a few weeks, two months maximum. My nose is already healing over, and while my throat still hurts, Lesya's told me there is no permanent damage.” She knows better than to hide her injuries from.him again, at least.

Holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, she rakes her fingers through her hair again.

“Mentally?” She gives a shaky laugh. 

He can see her in his mind, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, knees brought up to her chest, hidden between the bed and the bookshelf.

“Let's just say that I probably won't be getting much sleep in the foreseeable future and leave it at that.”

A rueful laugh escapes him. Well, that makes two of them.

“Same. You're going to give me white hair, Mashenka, insisting on doing stunts like these. We're too much alike, you and me, when it comes to protecting our people. As much as I would like to, I know I can't ask you to stop, but please, please be careful. You've got people who care about you too, Mashenka, so don't go throwing your life away either.”

She’s silent, though he can hear the tell-tale hitched breath of a suppressed sob.

“I’ll do my best” She jokes half-heartedly. “As long as you do the same.”

He nods. “I promise.”

Another silence.

“So. Daredevil.”

Masha lets out a surprised chuckle.

“I know, right! I couldn’t believe my eyes either. It was my first time seeing him up close. I think he must have a mutation or something, because his hearing is definitely out of the charts. He could  _ hear _ Belova following me, even though he couldn’t see her. This is somehow both creepy and cool. But he seems nice enough. Definitely doesn’t have any hesitation when it comes to maiming Bad guys, and he has apparently decided that we are his people now and acts accordingly. Irina gave him baked goods for that. Didn't talk with Romanova at all. I'm not sure if it is because he doesn't trust her or if it's because of something else, though.”

“Smart guy” Soldat mutters. “Any signs of other spooks hanging around?”

“Not that we’ve noticed- and believe me, the old Guardians took not spotting Belova as a personal insult and have upped their game. If they show up, we'll know.”

Soldat sighs.

“I know” he says, but it doesn't make the fact that the only thing he can do to keep them safe is to stay away any easier to bear.

Masha catches the undertone of his voice, and changes the subject.

“Our favourite hacker/information broker caught the trail of the Red Room again, so odds are the Avengers will know about it pretty soon. Once they leave to deal with it, we're heading your way for a few days.” A breath. “I miss you, brat.”

“I miss you too, sestra.” He gruffs. “Could do with fewer white hairs and heart attacks, though”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Pot, kettle, big brother. Anyway, I don't want to point the super idiots towards Ana, so Boston is out of the question. I was thinking about Chicago, maybe ? Could be nice, if a bit windy. “

He groans.

“Why Chicago?”

“So you can show us where Al Capone used to hang out back in the days, of course” she replies cheekily.

“Damn it Masha how many times do I have to tell you that I never even met the bastard ?” Soldat despairs.

They talk until the sun is high in the sky, exchanging bad jokes and teasing each other.

And if sometimes they fall silent, content with listening to the other’s breathing.

Well.

No one is going to begrudge them that little comfort.


End file.
